The House

Welcome to 'The House' - a joint venture between the members of Bold Writers, the fabulous writing group to which I belong.

At one of our meetings in 2004, we hit upon this idea of creating a 'Consequences'-style novelette, with one person writing Chapter 1, the next person doing Chapter 2, etc, etc - going round the group until the story concluded. We drew lots to determine who would 'go first,' and after a few debates decided we would write the story of a house (apologies for the somewhat uninspiring title - anyone who can suggest something better, please do so...) and its generations of inhabitants.

We thought such a subject matter would give us plenty of scope to create diverse characters and plunge them into exciting and, at times, creepy situations...which each successive writer would then be responsible for getting them out of as they took up the story.

Overall, it was a great team effort and truly interesting to see so many different ideas and styles combining to tell the extraordinary tale of 'Peak View' and its residents. So, sit back and enjoy, as Junying, Stuart, John, Dave, Julie, me and Jean transport you to The House...



Chapter 1
by Junying Kirk

Tara-Jane Mitchell fell in love with the house as soon as she laid eyes on it. It was late autumn, a fine day by any standards. The sun was shining, not as brightly as the summer sun but nevertheless warm on the face, reflecting different colours of the trees and fallen leaves on the ground. The stone-built house stood at the end of a narrow winding street, one quite typical of an English village, facing north and overlooking the valleys. Lovely, Tara-Jane thought. It meant that the garden would face south and get plenty of sunshine in the Summer. Being English, she was used to giving weight to such matters, especially when picking a dream house for the foreseeable future.

TJ, as her extended family called her lovingly, made a special trip that morning from London, where she had lived with her husband Howard for the last decade. While Howard worked for a merchant bank in the City, paying for their three-bedroom apartment just outside the city centre, TJ had to give up her high-flying PR job four years ago, when her daughter Lisa was born. Two years later, she had a second child, Thomas. Now with the growing family, she wanted to return to her northern roots, a much better place to raise the children, she believed. Howard, often stressed by the pressure and long hours of City life, did not need much persuasion. 'With your experience, it would not take long to find a suitable job in either Manchester or Leeds. We'll pick somewhere with easy train access to both cities.' TJ assured her husband, before setting out first thing that morning. Howard had taken a day off to look after their children.

Her elder brother Jack, who met TJ at the train station, accompanied her. He was happy to be her chauffeur for the day and better still, with an advisory role to relish. Jack had lived all his life in the Peak District, and loved it more than anywhere in the world. He took it as his duty to help his sister in finding a suitable family home.

Prior to their appointment to view the house in Highfield, they had done thorough research into the possible locations and properties in the area. Peak View, as it was called, was the second one on their list. After inspecting a country cottage in a different village some 15 miles away, they both agreed that it did not appeal to them. Now, maybe they were having a bit more luck.

The estate agent was already waiting by the time TJ and Jack arrived. 'The previous owner, an elderly man, had recently died. His family wants a quick sale.' The agent, a middle-aged woman, dressed immaculately in her designer suit with painted nails, spoke with a fake posh accent. She somehow reminded TJ of Annette Benning, the estate agent from the film American Beauty.

'I assume you have seen the brochure.' She gave a measured smile as she led the brother-sister team into the hallway.

© Junying Kirk, 2004



Chapter 2
by Stuart Barnes

Time had passed quickly since TJ and her family had moved to Highfield and she was now enjoying her third summer in Peak View. Since the renovation work had been finished she had, weather permitting, taken to spending more time in the garden. On one of those hot August afternoons TJ found time to sit out and enjoy a chilled glass of white wine. As she laid her head back on the frame of the old deck chair she gazed out across the manicured lawn at the old stone house that was now their family home. Over the past couple of years the deceptively spacious shell of a house had been completely refurbished. Walls had been knocked through, kitchens and bathrooms had been ripped out and all the fittings had been brought up to date. The interior had been redecorated through out with soft pastel shades and TJ took great pride in what she felt she had achieved. At last, after years of following Howard from job to job she finally had somewhere that she felt she belonged, somewhere she could at last call home.

TJ had loved this old house from the first moment she had set eyes on it and as soon as she walked through the door she knew this was going to be the place to raise her children. Even though from outside the house appeared cramped and dark, due partly to the narrow street in which it stood, inside the rooms were large and full of light. The house had been built on the side of a hill and from the back there were incredible views out across the rear garden and the countryside beyond. The garden rambled down the hillside to an expansive lawn and a patio where TJ had imagined sunning herself on beautiful summer days.

It was here she found herself that very afternoon as the bees and ladybirds lazily went about their business. She always liked to position herself so she could look up at the house, it gave her a sense of security in the way its solid grey stone walls seemed to impose themselves on their surroundings. As she lazed in the sunshine, a gentle breeze wafted the wispy branches of the willow tree behind her and she listened to the tinkling of water as it cascaded from the fountain. Droplets of crystal clear water danced across the pond as they played in the breeze. This was a special moment for TJ, surely nowhere else could be as perfect as this. She wanted to cherish this moment forever, to hold it in her mind's eye as the quintessential image of an English country house and garden. She adored living at Peak View and at that moment could never imagine living anywhere else.

Over the ensuing months TJ would remember many times how she felt that afternoon, recalling how happy she had been and how perfect the setting seemed. She often wished that everyone could pick a moment in time to hold onto forever. But regrettably the march of time moves on and happiness is only a fleeting emotion, a fragile flame at the mercy of the lightest breath of misfortune.

The precise moment TJ's world fell apart was 5pm on the 29th October 2004. She was standing in the kitchen, talking to Howard while she prepared tea for the children. Her daughter was playing upstairs with her friends and her son, Thomas, had gone on a trip to the park with the family of his best friend, Richard. When the doorbell rang TJ thought it was Richard's father, who had promised to bring the boys back before six. As Howard answered the door she followed him out of the kitchen, but stopped in the doorway when she saw two large blurred figures beyond the glass panel of the front door. As they spoke, although the words that reached her were muffled, she could still catch the odd word. Thomas's name was mentioned, then something about her son being involved in an accident. Someone had been killed. Then she saw Howard step back as he exclaimed 'Oh, my God!', his face turning grey, then white with shock. TJ remembered feeling faint and seeing the glass of water in her hand, as if in slow motion, slip from her fingers and smash on the wooden floor. She watched in stunned disbelief as it shattered, sending myriad shards of rainbow coloured glass across the hallway.

Time passed in a haze for TJ, the pain of losing her son was almost intolerable. The tranquillisers helped, for a while, but the nightmare was always there, waiting for her with the dawning of a new day. Howard stayed with her for a few weeks but eventually he had to return to work and TJ increasingly found herself alone in the house. Without Thomas it seemed a sadder and emptier place, but even so, TJ felt shielded from the pain of the cruel world outside. With the passing of each lonely day she found her world shrinking in size until its limits became the four grey stone walls of Peak View.

Howard became concerned at his wife's reluctance to leave the house and encouraged her to go out more, to go shopping, visit friends, anywhere as long as she was not sitting alone in the house. TJ hated leaving the comforting silence of the house, as it was then she heard the whispering. Outside she felt the insecurity of knowing that people were talking behind her back and, although she knew they meant well, she could sense their pity and hear the incessant rumours.

'That's the poor lady from Peak View, her little son was killed in a horrible accident. They were such a lovely family; but I knew no luck would come of living in that old house.'

Even when she visited the Doctor's surgery she could hear them, heads together, voices lowered, whispering and pointing her out to each other.

'Poor dear, her son was killed in that car crash a few weeks ago. They live in Peak View, you know the old house on Church Street where that old man killed himself a few years ago. It's an unlucky house that one. There's been some strange goings on in there. Don't you remember the guy the Police arrested and all those people coming and going during the war? You mark my words, there's a curse on that house, no luck will ever come of living there. I wouldn't live there if you paid me.'

What did they mean, an unlucky house? How could anyone be stupid enough to believe in a curse on a house? She kept telling herself there was no truth in what they said, perhaps it was all her imagination. But what did they mean about the old man killing himself, hadn't he died peacefully in his sleep? What happened during the war and who were these people that everyone seemed to talk about. The more she dwelled on the whispers the more it played on her mind, until eventually she could think of nothing else. She had to know more, she had to find out the truth about the house. She loved Peak View and cherished the brief memories of Thomas playing around the house. Could there possibly be anything sinister about this place? Yet, there had been the odd moments when she had sensed something, a fleeting sensation of being watched, almost as if…….., dare she think it, as if she was not alone. On those occasions she had just shrugged it off and blamed it on an over active imagination. Although she tried to rationalise things, she knew in her own mind that if she were ever to find peace in this house she would have to find out more about this place, to delve into its past and discover what had really happened within these four walls.

© Stuart Barnes, 2004



Chapter 3
by John Came

Sitting in the relative peace of Highfield Library, TJ waded through pages of the local history book. History as a subject had never appealed to her at school. It was always so dry, so text book. It drove her to distraction. She remembered being told once that any topic could be made interesting if it was handled in the right way. That was the trouble - it never was. This time it would be different. Because she wanted to know about Peak View it would be interesting. She decided to tackle it with gusto.

Taking out a notebook, she started jotting down snippets of information - anything that might help her. Unfortunately, there was nothing about their house. She realised that only by engaging some of the residents in conversation would she even begin to learn the truth. It was rather like a detective story. There would be many twists and turns, red herrings and shocks before the full story was unravelled, of that she was sure.

As the paper bill needed settling, the newsagent seemed the ideal place to begin her investigation. Ted Waterman was probably one of the longest-serving residents so if anyone would know, he would. Stepping into the shop she saw that she was the only customer present.

Approaching the counter, it was Ted Waterman who spoke first. 'Morning Mrs Mitchell. You've come to pay your bill I take it?'

Smiling wanly, she replied, 'Yes, that's right. It's £5.80 isn't it?'

'That sounds right but I'll check the book to make sure.' He bent down and brought out the account book, thumbed through it and finding the relevant entry, looked up saying, 'That's correct.'

She handed over the money. Accepting it, he placed it safely in the till. Eyeing her, he enquired, gingerly, 'How are you coping? We're all thinking about you, you know.'

Pursing her lips hard and taking a deep breath she seized her opportunity. Speaking as firmly as she could, she answered, 'I'm trying to move on but it's so difficult. There are things I need to know. Things that need explaining. It's about our house, Peak View.' She paused, wondering how to express herself.

Ted Waterman looked serious when the name passed her lips. He said, 'What about it exactly? You'll have to more specific.'

'Well. I'd rather like to know about its history and some of the people who've lived in it. You see, I've heard people talking about its past and how no luck comes of anybody who's been there. What can you tell me?'

He frowned deeply and appeared lost in thought. At last, in faltering tones, he replied, 'It's got quite a long history, some of it not very good I'm afraid. Are you sure you want me to be telling you this? I mean, losing your Thomas the way you did, you don't want any more trauma do you?'

So there was something sinister about Peak View.

At this point another customer walked into the shop. It was Reg Edwards, an elderly near-neighbour of TJ's, who lived on his own, his wife having died two years previously.

'Morning Reg,' he said, as if keen to change the subject.

'Morning Ted. I'll have my usual cigarettes when you've finished serving this good lady.'

TJ turned round and faced the interloper. She recognised her neighbour and smiled politely. It was obvious that she was not going to get very far with her line of questioning, although she was determined not to let Ted Waterman get off the hook quite so easily without clarifying what he meant by "more trauma". Perhaps, just perhaps, Reg Edwards would be more forthcoming. She could only hope. Whatever she did, she had to ensure that any conversation on the subject was conducted privately. If she tried to discuss it there and then there was a great danger of Ted giving Reg the wink to stay silent.

She bade farewell to both of them and left the shop. Her first instinct was to return home but she had a change of mind and decided to wait around. She whiled away the time by reading the various adverts displayed in the newsagent's window. That way it wouldn't look so obvious if he came out and found she was still there. Finally Reg Edwards did enter the street.. He spotted her and said pleasantly, 'Got your eye on anything in particular?'

She replied "innocently", 'No, not really. Just having a browse that's all.' As normally as she could manage, she added, 'I'm just off home. Would you like to come and have a cup of coffee? I shall quite understand if the answer's "no".' She hoped that he wouldn't take the get-out clause in her invitation. It was a calculated gamble.

His face became agitated and ashen. He stuttered as he replied, 'Th-thank you, but I'd rather not if you don't mind. No offence meant but I couldn't set foot in that place. I'm sorry. I know how it must sound. I don't mean to send alarm signals. I just can't that's all. How about you come to me?'

Although she was prepared for a knock-back she didn't think it would amount to a knockout. It was as though a panicked horse had kicked out with one of its legs and landed a blow on her jaw, such was the impact of his words. Why was he so reluctant to enter Peak View? She simply had to know. She agreed to his suggestion and they arranged that she would visit him the next day at three o'clock.

That night TJ's sleep was a troubled one and she woke up, either shaking violently or shouting almost demonically. The first time her sleep was interrupted noisily it also woke up Howard. She had told him what Reg Edwards had said. He had tried to pacify her and told her not to worry but the moment the sound jolted him out of his sleep he knew that it had worried her deeply. Lisa too heard her mother's cry but was too frightened to leave her bed. Howard suggested she took a tranquilliser but she was reluctant to do so in case she overslept. He became very concerned about her - it was affecting him as well and he knew it would upset Lisa. Something had to be done before TJ's balance of mind was disturbed, perhaps irrevocably.

© John Came, 2004



Chapter 4
by David Patterson

Things were fraught at breakfast the next morning. TJ was feeling quite agitated after such a poor night's sleep and the nightmares had seemed so real and frightening. Howard was full of concern, but was beginning to feel at his wits end. He really should stay with TJ but he had such an important meeting that morning, there was no way he could miss it.

It was then that Lisa spoke, 'I hate this place. Can't we move to a new house?' TJ and Howard both spun round, startled to hear this, although the thought had crossed Howard's mind on more than one occasion. TJ gave an involuntary 'No' in response but was sent nearly mad by the feeling, the sense, undeniable, that the House itself had reacted. That the thought of them leaving had made the very walls themselves, shudder at the shock of the idea.

But no, she must be wrong, losing her mind, things were getting out of control. TJ struggled to compose herself, she had to calm down, keep things as normal as possible, for Lisa's sake above all else.

Under protest Howard had gone off to his meeting and Lisa had been packed off to school, leaving TJ time to compose herself and to prepare for her meeting with Reg Edwards. The panic and fear had subsided and TJ was still set upon finding out about the 'traumas' connected with Peak View.

Reg Edwards greeted TJ cordially when she arrived and set about preparing tea - with calm precision. But it was clear that he was making a great effort to remain composed and polite whilst dreading the moment when the conversation would turn to the subject of Peak View. In the end it took very little probing from TJ to 'open the floodgates' and for Reg, looking increasingly ill at ease and careworn to pour out his story. TJ felt a sudden tremor of panic ripple through her body at what was finally going to be revealed.

' It was during the war, so many terrible things happened, so many good men from Highfield were lost. And the rationing made life hard, although we weren't so badly off here in the countryside. Bad times, I should know and that house - Peak View never brought anybody any good.

'When the bombing started we could see the night sky lit up over Manchester. It was before that when the evacuee children came. My father, he was the vicar at St Mary's, was in charge of organising their billeting amongst the families of the village.

'There was one lad left over after all the others had been placed, Robert was his name, nobody would take him and we already had three staying at the vicarage. Father wasn't happy about it, but he took him to lodge with the Hargreaves at Peak View. The house was almost derelict at that time, it barely had a roof on it, but there had been nowhere else for the Hargreaves - Harry and Sarah I think their names were, to go. They were shunned by all the other villagers, I think because their son Tom, had been born out of wedlock. Nobody would give them the time of day.

'We had all these new children at school and most fitted in well. But Rob seemed very unhappy, his red face always wore a frown, he could have black moods and he didn't look clean or well kept when he first arrived. His shirt was always hanging out of his trousers. Somehow, Ted, Lucy - she was one of the evacuees with us at the vicarage and myself got involved with Rob. We tried to cheer him up and get him to come out and play after school.

'Lucy was a very sweet girl, I was only twelve at the time but I liked her a lot…..so did Ted. We didn't like it when she went home again………around January 1940. Well nothing had happened - 'the Phoney War' - they called it afterwards. A lot of the parents started to send for their children to come home again. But nobody sent for Rob, he stayed on with the Hargreaves.

'But Lucy came back, it was after that terrible raid on Manchester….. in May 1941. It was then that it happened. We were all playing at Peak View, on the big open landing at the top of the staircase.'

Yes, the staircase thought TJ, it was the one part of the house they hadn't been able to touch. It was almost build into the back wall of the house.

'There was a terrible accident,' Reg shuddered as he continued without a pause. 'I went down first, I was almost at the bottom when I heard an almighty crash and a cry and something falling behind me. I turned and there was poor Lucy lying at the bottom of the stairs with her head at a horrible angle to her body. I looked up to hear Ted shouting at Rob, "You pushed her. You pushed her!"

"I didn't. I didn't," cried Rob back at Ted. "She fell. She fell!"

'After that everything went horrible and we all felt completely wretched. The grown ups came and the police and interviewed everybody. Things were eventually put down to a terrible accident, but Ted insisted that Rob had pushed poor Lucy. Rob wouldn't budge from his story and he went all sullen and silent. You could sense the rage within him, his face seemed to get redder and redder. They took him away shortly afterwards - back to Manchester I think.'

'What about Tom, the Hargreaves' boy, was he there?'

'Yes, but he was no use. He went quite mad, crying hysterically saying that it was "the House the House!" His parents didn't like that. They told him to shut up and to keep quiet.'

Reg broke off and slumped back in his chair. His shaking hand rattled his cup on the china saucer as he tried to quickly gulp down the last of his tea. His brow was covered with sweat and he looked pale and exhausted.

TJ was reeling at the thought of another tragic death of a child being connected with Peak View. She wondered what had really happened to the girl Lucy. TJ was unable to escape from the feeling that it was connected to the loss of her own son and the disturbing and sinister feelings she was beginning to have about the house.

'So you see Mrs Mitchell,' Reg continued after a long silence, 'you can perhaps understand why Ted was so reluctant to talk to you about Peak View. We never speak of it now, it was so long ago, but it cast a shadow over us for many years. It is one reason - there are others, why that house is so unloved, considered unlucky in the village.'

TJ wanted to ask more but Reg had closed his eyes and slumped back again in his seat. She thanked him quietly and got up to leave. TJ had to find out more but it would have to wait for another day. Looking back as she closed the door she saw that Reg still sat motionless with his eyes closed. A single tear running down the side of his cheek.

© David Patterson, 2004



Chapter 5
by Julie Richards

TJ woke suddenly. Her heart was pounding and she felt clammy all over. She had been dreaming, a strange, unpleasant dream that left her shaking with fear. Quietly she slid out of bed, not wishing to wake Howard, and headed towards the bathroom. She opened the tranquilliser packet and poured herself a glass of water.

What was happening to her? She was relying on tranquillisers to get her through the night or day or both when it was bad. The days when she powered her way through the world of Public Relations seemed like a distant memory. Where was her confidence and joie de vivre? Her unassailable optimism that life was good and her future bright?

TJ knew the answer before she had finished asking the question. Thomas's death. It had penetrated her armour and made her vulnerable. If such a terrible thing could happen to her, what other terrors lay in wait? The thought made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end and she physically shook. This house - this house had something to do with it she was sure, but it was a feeling only, nothing that she could put into words. If she told Howard of her fears, she knew that he would urge her to seek professional help. For now it was her secret, but it seemed a heavy burden to bear.

She swallowed the pill and made her way back to the bedroom. On the way she checked in Lisa's room. She was sleeping the sleep of children - deep and undisturbed.

'She's safe,' TJ told herself firmly.

She carefully got back into bed and waited for the soporific effect of the tranquilliser to work and the welcome blackness it brought with it.

Next morning TJ work with a new determination. She did not want these fears to dominate her life; they had to be faced up to. The stories that were whispered behind her back, about the house, had to be checked out. Reg's story had been sad of course, but there must have been many accidents that happened to evacuees during the war. Lucy's death was surely a simple but tragic accident.

TJ thought hard about the gossipy stories that she'd managed to overhear. An old man had killed himself in the house they said. One way to verify the story was to check the records. This would necessitate a visit to Sheffield City Library. Feeling suddenly more positive, TJ picked up her notepad and pen and swung Lisa round in the air.

'Mommy stop it,' she giggled thoroughly enjoying the danger.

After dropping Lisa off at school, TJ headed for the library.

She asked for the archived copies of The Sheffield Gazette for the year 2000. There was much to go through and not really knowing what she was looking for, she had to check all reports carefully.

It was lunchtime when she finally found it, front page and a large headline.

"CURIOUS DEATH AT PEAK VIEW COTTAGE."

The few brief lines described how a postman had noticed the post piling up in the dilapidated porch and contacted the police. After breaking in, police found the body of an elderly man at the foot of the stairs. He had been dead for some time and at this point of the investigation foul play was not suspected.

TJ shivered - the stairs again! She skimmed forward several weeks until she found a report from the Coroner's Court. A neighbour, Thomas McMahon, described how the man had only been in the house for six months. In fact, Mr McMahon had been surprised that the sale of the house had gone through considering its dilapidated state. The man had not mixed with the villagers and was known as something of a recluse. Nobody appeared to know anything about him, neither his name nor what he looked like.

The pathologist described injuries consistent with a fall downstairs. With the age of the gentleman it was very possible that he had tripped or slipped and fallen down the stairs. The Coroner recorded Death by Misadventure.

It was the last sentence that struck TJ; the gentleman was named as a Robert Walker from Manchester.

TJ's heart skipped a beat. Robert…Rob - where was the link? Then she heard Reg's words:

'….Ted insisted that Rob had pushed poor Lucy….They took him away….Back to Manchester.'

Her heart whirling, TJ headed for home. What if Robert Walker the recluse, was Rob the evacuee, taken away all those years ago, for his part in Lucy's death. Why had he come back to the village after all these years - if it was him?

'I've raised more questions than I've answered,' thought TJ ruefully. She would tell Howard tonight, and see what he thought.

Back at the cottage, TJ surveyed the stairs. They appeared to be the same original stairs built over a hundred years ago. The builders had not wanted to touch them in the renovation work.

'Best leave them alone,' they'd advised.

The stairs were a vital and integral part of the house but were appearing to be what? A malevolent force? TJ shook her head. It was too ridiculous to consider.

As she climbed the stairs, she felt the smoothness of the polished banister and saw the rough-hewn oak stair treads that were worn with the use of the years.

TJ was about to take her last step when she heard Lisa call her.

'Mommy, Mommy!' It was a cry for help that was coming from the kitchen.

TJ spun round, panic gripping her.

'I'm coming Lisa!'

As she turned she felt the stairs disappear from under her and then she was falling through the air. She heard her scream dulled by the thud of her body.

Lisa had just come out of her bedroom. She was playing dressing-up and she wanted to show mommy her new polka dot skirt, when she heard mommy shout her name? Why was she rushing downstairs to her, when she, Lisa was in her bedroom?

'Mommy wake up,' Lisa whimpered as she sat by TJ's body.

The house was eerily quiet, disturbed only by Lisa's sobs.

© Julie Richards, 2004



Chapter 6
by Leigh Rowley

Things had gone too far this time. What had begun as a prank had backfired hideously. The two young observers who hovered unseen over the ill-fated staircase stared horribly transfixed at TJ and Lisa acting out that grisly scene in the hallway. Their little mouths were frozen open in silent gasps.

'What - have - you - done?' the boy stammered at last. His little lips quivered, every hair on his small head appeared to be standing on end, as though with static electricity, and his soft young skin would have turned ashen were it not translucent already. 'That's my mommy! You've - killed - my mommy!'

His companion, a girl, was noticeably older than him, ethereally pretty, and dressed in clothes that belonged to another era. While her friend wore little combat trousers and a Shrek T-shirt, her flimsy form was clad in an old and rather shapeless floral pinafore frock. Her long, pale hair was tied back with a ribbon.

She took an eternity to answer the boy, so fixedly was she gaping at the inert shape on the hall carpet. Finally she recovered herself sufficiently to retort in a bitter snap: 'It's all your fault!'

'No it's not!'

'Yes it is, Thomas!' Her voice rose eerily shrilly with every syllable. Her slim, pubescent frame was shaking with terror; her breath coming in hysterical wheezes. 'You've caused this. You're a bad influence.'

'No I'm not!'

'Yes you are!'

'Am not!'

'Are too! I was happy and peaceful until last October - when you came to join me up here!'

'Well I couldn't help that, Lucy,' Thomas sobbed, aghast. 'I didn't want to become a ghost, I wanted to stay as a normal boy forever, but I was coming home from the park, when this car hit me, and - '

'Yes, yes, I know the story,' Lucy interrupted irritably, 'but it was all your idea to start haunting your family. I wanted to leave them alone. They seemed so nice. I was happy just living up here quietly once Robert had gone. I wanted to be a friendly spirit, guarding the staircase not cursing it.'

'You weren't friendly to Robert! You made him fall down those stairs too, just like you've done to my mommy!'

'He was different, Tom - you know that. I wanted revenge on him.'

'Why? What had he ever done to you?'

'He was my murderer,' Lucy shrieked chillingly. 'My murderer - that evil boy who pushed me down there, Tom! That freaky evacuee boy who robbed me of the chance to grow up - just like the driver of that car did to you! Rob killed me in a jealous temper just because I wouldn't kiss him - because I was sweet on his friend Reg.'

'But I thought the man who came to live here wasn't him! He wasn't the same Robert! He just had the same name and came from the same place.'

'I didn't care - I'd heard rumours he got locked away in a borstal and hanged himself soon after he left here - but even if it wasn't him how could I live in the same house Robert Walker? How could I? That name haunted me. So I decided to haunt him! His presence here drove me mad. And there was the fact he came from Manchester too. He had to go! I felt at peace with myself after I'd seen him off and your folks moved in. I was happy for the next three years - until you came to live with me on the other side.'

'My mommy said it must be the curse on this house that was to blame for my death. It was your curse, Lucy! Your fault!'

'No, Tom!' Lucy was distraught at the allegation. 'I had nothing to do with that car crash - how can you say such a thing? I would never have hurt you. I felt so sorry for your poor family when it happened - but also a little part of me couldn't help being glad that at last I had a friend to play with up here. I thought we could protect your family together, and save them from any more harm - but you're naughty, Tom! You made me start playing tricks on them! Hiding things, brushing past them to make them go all cold and shivery, calling out to make them think they were hearing things…'

Tom pouted, with a mixture of petulance and terror. 'It was only meant to be a bit of fun!'

'Well it's not fun now, is it? Getting me to shout to your mommy, pretending to be Lisa, making her run down the stairs to me and then appearing in the hallway, scaring her out of her wits!'

'It was just meant to be a joke,' Tom blubbed piteously. 'To fool Mommy that Lisa was throwing her voice from upstairs. I didn't know Mommy was going to go crazy like that. I never meant for her to topple down and hurt herself!'

'Well she has hurt herself now, hasn't she? Well and truly! And look at your poor sister too - how frightened she is!' The sight of Lisa's sobbing little figure, crouched over her mother's poor broken body, was enough to break even tiny ghost hearts.

'D'you think Mommy's dead?' Tom bawled, so unused to seeing his happy-go-lucky big sister so afraid, or his mother so powerless. 'What happens now?'

'I don't know, Tom.' Lucy's voice was so wobbly and soft it was barely audible. 'I really don't know.'

© Leigh Rowley, 2004



Chapter 7
by Jean Lumby

'This is what happens when you interfere in the living world.'

Tom and Lucy spun around to find an old man standing beside them.

'No good comes of interfering, you should have left well alone,' said the old man.

'Now you've caused more heartache for that family.' He looked down at TJ's crumpled body and the distraught figure of little Lisa.

Tom followed the old man's gaze and looking at his mother again cried out in anguish. 'She's not dead, she's not dead, she can't leave Daddy and Lisa alone!'

The old man shook his head and looked accusingly at Lucy.

'It wasn't my fault, he wanted to do it.' Lucy's voice was defensive and wary. The old man scared her. 'Who are you and why are you in my house?'

'But it's not your house is it little girl?' he was looking fixedly at Lucy now, waiting for her to respond.

'I know you!" cried Lucy. 'You're Robert Walker, the old man Robert Walker!' and she cowered behind Tom.

'I'm also the young boy Robert Walker.' The old man smiled at her, she had recognised him and he was glad.

'You can't be!' cried Lucy, she was confused and frightened but the old man just smiled back at her.

Don't upset yourself, child, what's done is done and can't be undone,' he said. 'You wanted to kill me because you thought I killed you.'

'You did kill me, you pushed me down the stairs,' she shouted at him, 'just because I liked Reg better than you!'

'But I didn't push you down the stairs, it was an accident, and Ted Waterman knew it was.'

Tom stood between the old man and the little girl and looked from one to the other, not really understanding anything.

Lucy looked at the old man, Robert Walker and instantly saw the young boy Rob Walker. She knew he was telling the truth.

'We were standing behind you on the staircase, me and Ted,' the old Rob Walker continued, 'and the step just gave way underneath us, it just disappeared!' The old man shook his head sadly. 'I fell into you and knocked you down the stairs, but somehow Ted managed to hold onto the banister.'

'But why didn't Ted tell anyone this?' demanded Lucy, not really wanting it to be true, but all the time knowing it was.

'He didn't like me, did he?' replied Robert, 'In fact none of you liked me very much.' He went silent.

'But why didn't you say anything? Ted told everyone you pushed me, why didn't you show them the step?' Lucy was realising the enormity of what she had done to this innocent old man.

'Because no-one really believed me when I said I didn't do it, they believed Ted before me. Besides, I went back to the house after and checked the stairs, I couldn't find anything wrong with the step. But it did disappear under my feet you know. I wouldn't have pushed you down the stairs - I liked you.'

'I believe you,' whispered Lucy, near to tears, 'and I'm sorry I made you fall down the stairs and die.'

'But you didn't,' smiled Robert. 'That old step just disappeared again, got me after all!' And he chuckled.

'But why did you come back to the house?' asked Lucy. "If no-one was nice to you when you were little why did you come back when you were grown up?'

'To give Ted Waterman the chance to ease his conscience, I suppose. He must be carrying a heavy burden all these years, knowing the truth.' Robert paused.

'The wishful musings of an old man, trying to put things right before it became too late for me - and him. I came back to face Ted Waterman and set things straight, but he wouldn't have any of it, so I decided to leave things as they were. I didn't bother much with anyone after Ted told me to clear off - what was the point?'

Lucy looked up at Robert and they smiled at each other.

'I'm sorry.'

'I'm sorry too.'

Tom looked at them both, still not understanding what was happening, then suddenly ran to his mother and fell beside her body.

'Mom, Mom, wake up! Don't die, you can't die! Please Mommy, I love you - don't die!!'

Lucy and Robert were then standing next to him, and Robert gently lifted Tom from the floor. He held Tom's hand and took Lucy's in his other.

'As I said, you shouldn't interfere in the living world. They will all be with us soon enough, leave them be.'

He led them away, and Thomas looked back for the last time at his mother and sister.

TJ could hear voices - distant and echoing - but couldn't make out what was being said. They rose and fell and seemed to swirl around inside her head, incoherent, urgent voices all around her, but she had no voice of her own. She couldn't see, but the voices appeared to her to be black and grey, swirling and moving, faster then slower as they rose and fell. And out of this melee of voices and greyness, she heard her son Tom. She didn't hear what he said, but she knew she heard him. The black swirls turned to grey, and the grey turned to white, a bright translucent white. And with each change of hue something lifted within her, she felt lighter and clearer. The voices too became clearer. This time she could hear Howard's voice, and Lisa's. Howard's voice strong, insistent and concerned. Lisa's voice scared, high pitched and sobbing.

'Come on darling, wake up, please, wake up.' Howard was kneeling over his wife, his large hands cupping her face firmly, willing his strength into her.

'Mommy, Mommy, please Mommy.' Lisa sobs were helpless and distraught.

TJ opened her eyes, and closed them again quickly. The light was too bright.

'TJ! Wake up!' Howard shouted. TJ was shocked into consciousness. Through the white glare she could see her husband.

'Oh Christ! Thank God, Thank God!' Howard cradled TJ in his arms, silent tears cursing down his face as he rocked her back and forth and kissed her hair. Lisa was holding onto TJ's legs and sobbing.

Locked in her family's urgent embrace, and for the first time since her son's death, Tara-Jane felt at peace. She pulled herself away from Howard's clasp and looked directly into his eyes.

'Everything is all right, Howard. Everything is all right.'

Howard looked back at her and immediately he understood.

TJ had passed through the constricting shroud of grief and pain that had engulfed her since the day Tom had died. Somehow she knew she could live again and be happy. The grief would always be there, how could it not be? But she had to live again for the sake of Lisa and Howard. They too had suffered through all of this, but they would be a happy family once more. TJ and Howard would watch Lisa grow, and in her mind Tom would grow too. She would keep him with her and follow his life as the years went by. She would imagine his first girlfriend, his first job, his marriage, his children, her grandchildren. No, Tom would never really leave her.

'How did you fall?' asked Howard as he gingerly helped TJ to her feet.

'I don't really know, I thought I heard Lisa call me, but then the step seemed to disappear under my feet. It all happened so quickly.'

The following Sunday morning was warm and sunny and TJ was setting the table in the garden for brunch. Lisa was outside playing with a friend who had stayed over the night before. Sunday papers were strewn over the garden chairs and on the lawn.

'Have you finished up there?' called TJ carrying a tray through the hallway, 'the food is ready.'

Howard was at the top of the stairs with his toolbox.

'Just finished, darling.' He called back, as his electric screwdriver whirred.

After TJ's accident he investigated the stairs thoroughly. He had found there really was something sinister about the stairs. A loose floorboard! It had probably lain undetected for years, and may have even caused the old man's death. TJ had had a lucky escape. Howard had now replaced the floorboard and had secured it tightly with brand new brass screws. As he picked up his toolbox he jumped on the step to test it. Solid!

He then jumped, two-footed, on every step down the stairs, like a schoolboy. As he jumped off the last one he playfully put his spare arm around his wife's waist and nuzzled into her neck.

'Welcome home my love,' he murmured.

'It is good to be back,' TJ replied, and laughing they made their way into the garden to their daughter.

As their laughter and chatter echoed around TJ's lovely Peak View the sun shone through the windows of The House and left its bright light on the stairs. And, in the gloomy darkness underneath the stairwell, there was a faint glint on the new golden screws as they lay in the dust alongside rusted nails.

© Jean Lumby, 2004



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