The Ghost of Shapley Hall Page 2

  “So you're really into the history of this place, huh?” I asked, hoping to change the subject slightly. “That's pretty cool.”

  “I haven't been here for a long time,” she continued, taking my hand and leading me to yet another large wooden door. She seemed to be back to her old self, at least a little. “I remember it so well, though. I remember it as if it were -”

  Suddenly we both turned as we heard a loud bump from somewhere else in the house. We waited, but now silence had fallen again, and after a moment I turned to Rachel. This time, there was a hint of fear in her eyes.

  “So you said this place has been empty for a few years?” I asked cautiously. “Apart from the insect population, obviously.”

  She nodded. “Since Uncle Henry decided to leave.”

  “And why did -”

  “Old houses are noisy,” she added, interrupting me. “Is that what you want to hear? You've told me often enough that you don't believe in ghosts.”

  “I don't.”

  “That's probably a very wise decision,” she continued, with a trace of sadness. “Sometimes I think that if you don't believe in them, you can't see them. Whereas if you do believe, if you make that mistake, there's no going back...” Her voice trailed off for a moment. “Maybe we shouldn't talk about this,” she added, forcing another smile. “I'd only piss you off. To be honest, that's one of the things I love about you. I mean, like about you. I mean...” She paused again. “Come on,” she added, giving my hand a squeeze, “let's take a look at the rest of the house. You won't believe what's through here!”

  Before I could reply, she dragged me through into yet another large room, this time lined on all sides with huge, towering bookshelves. Letting go of her hand, I made my way across the room, astounded by the sight of so many old books. Morning light streamed through the high windows, and I wandered through clouds of dust until I reached one of the shelves and saw old books on various botanical subjects. Reaching out, I took one of the books from the shelf and opened it. The spine creaked slightly, and I found that the pages had been annotated by some long-forgotten reader, who'd added a few corrections to the information.

  “This is fascinating,” I muttered, slowly leafing through the book. “You should get this library checked out by an expert. Some of these books might be one-of-a-kind.” I flicked through a few more pages, before realizing that she hadn't replied. “Rachel?”

  Turning, I looked across the library and saw no sign of her at all.

  “Rachel?” I called out.

  The only reply came from the nearby wall, where a handful of beetles were crawling into a hole in the plaster. Their little legs clicked and rustled as they scurried out of sight.

  “Rachel?”

  After setting the book back in place, I made my way across the room until I reached the door, at which point I saw that a message had been written in the dust atop a desk:

  Have fun! Explore!

  Smiling, I realized that this was pretty typical behavior for Rachel. She had a tendency to surprise me, and I figured she just wanted me to take a look around without being guided.

  “Okay,” I said out loud, on the off-chance that she could still hear me. “Just don't leave me along for too long, okay? I might get lost!”

  I waited.

  Silence.

  “Okay,” I said again, figuring that I had no choice.

  Chapter Four

  Making my way across the dark, gloomy bedroom, I stopped at the window and pulled the curtains open. Bright afternoon light immediately streamed through, almost blinding me, and when I turned I saw a vast cloud of dust drifting through the air.

  And a suit of armor.

  Over in the far corner, there was an actual suit of armor.

  “Seriously?” I muttered under my breath, heading over and peering at the damn thing for a moment, before reaching out and putting a hand on its cold shoulder.

  I paused for a moment, staring at the dark slit on the visor. By that point I probably shouldn't have been surprised to find a suit of armor in the house, but I was still getting used to the idea that the place seemed more like a museum than a family home. I had absolutely no doubt that this armor had once been worn by one of Rachel's ancestors, and that it was several hundreds years old rather than a modern facsimile. For a moment, I actually found the whole thing a little creepy, but only in a Scooby Doo kind of way.

  “It's just a suit of armor,” I continued, turning and heading back to the door. “No house is complete without one, really. I don't know how we -”

  Before I could finish, I felt a crunching sensation under my right foot. Even before I looked down, I knew what had happened, and sure enough I saw that I'd crushed a beetle, spattering a small amount of rich red blood across the wooden floor. Its antenna still twitched for a couple of seconds, before falling still.

  “Nice,” I muttered.

  “James!” Rachel shouted suddenly from far, far away, although clearly still in the house. “Come see!”

  “Where are you?” I called out, looking along the landing at the top of the stairs. I waited, but now she didn't answer. “Rachel, give me a clue! I need a map to find my way around this place!”

  I took a couple of steps along the corridor.

  “This way!” she yelled suddenly from the other direction.

  Realizing that her voice was coming from somewhere in the house's east wing, I made my way past the top of the stairs and over toward another corridor. I was starting to cough a little, thanks to the vast amounts of dust that continually swirled through the air, and I also felt a little overwhelmed by the stench of wood all around. The house was stuffy to say the least, and I didn't feel any better when I tried another light-switch and found that it didn't work. Rachel had mentioned the house's electricity supply being 'questionable', and it was clear that she hadn't been kidding.

  Nearby, more beetles crawled across the wall. To be honest, I was starting to feel as if Rachel and I were intruding in their world.

  “Hey!” I called out, making my way along the next corridor, passing a series of closed doors. “Am I getting warmer? Rachel?”

  By the time I reached the end of the corridor, and found a small room with a set of stairs in the corner, she still hadn't replied. I was already not sure I could find my way back to the main staircase.

  “Rachel? Can you give me a clue here?”

  I waited, but all I heard was silence. Figuring that the house was so big that she probably couldn't hear me from the other end, I wandered to the window and peered out. The house enjoyed a vast garden, of course, and there didn't seem to be another building for miles in any direction, not before the small village of Retchford that we'd passed on the way. Again, I felt a shudder of culture shock, and I couldn't help wondering who owned such vast expanses of land and yet left it unused like this. No houses and no towns, but no farms either. Just bare field after bare field, neat enough but apparently not needed for any purpose, as if the world had pulled back from the area around the house. Rachel's family, I already knew, owned a fair bit of the area, but also -

  Suddenly I heard a bump from the floor below, seemingly from the room directly beneath the one in which I was standing. I waited, assuming that Rachel was on her way up, but after a moment I turned and looked over at the stairs.

  Silence.

  “Rachel?” I called out. “Is that you?”

  Heading over to the top of the stairs, which seemed much more modern than the rest of the house, I peered down but still saw no sign of anyone.

  “Rachel?”

  Sighing, I couldn't help thinking back to the many, many times Rachel had teased me for not believing in ghosts. She'd always seemed to think that eventually I'd change my mind, and I was starting to wonder whether she thought the house might spook me a little. It was almost as if she saw my lack of belief as a challenge, as something to be broken.

  I waited, before making my way down and finding myself in a small room with plaster-board wa
lls. Whereas most of the house appeared not to have been renovated in any way for several centuries, this part had clearly been modernized. I headed over to the door and peered through into the next corridor, but once again I heard only silence.

  “Rachel?”

  I waited.

  Just as I opened my mouth to call to her again, however, I realized I could hear a sound. There was the faintest of gulps in the distance, as if someone was breathlessly swallowing over and over again, maybe drinking too fast or struggling for air. I waited, assuming that I'd quickly understand what I was hearing, but the sound simply continued without any apparent change.

  “That's not pipes,” I muttered under my breath.

  Figuring that there was no point calling out again, I began to make my way along the corridor. By the time I reached the far end and found an open door leading into another small hallway, I'd begun to realize that the gulping sound was definitely caused by someone weeping. Rachel had seemed so happy when we arrived, and it was hard to believe that she could suddenly have become so upset. At the same time, I knew that the house held some special memories from her childhood, so I figured that perhaps she'd unexpectedly come across something. We'd only been together for a couple of months, but she'd shown several times that she could be very changeable. Sunny and happy one moment, then dark and withdrawn the next.

  Stepping across yet another small hallway and reaching yet another door, I looked through and saw an oak-paneled corridor more in line with the older parts of the house. The sobbing definitely seemed to be coming from the far end, so I made my way along, not wanting to shout and scare Rachel. When I looked through into yet another bare room, however, the sobbing immediately stopped and I found myself facing a dead-end. I paused, expecting the sobbing sound to return, but instead all I heard was silence.

  “Hey!”

  Suddenly Rachel clattered into me from behind, almost knocking me to the ground. I turned just as she wrapped her arms around me and kissed my neck, and it was absolutely clear that this was not someone who had been in tears just a moment ago. Her cheeks were dry and her eyes were filled with mischief. Even Rachel couldn't switch so quickly, I told myself.

  “Been sneaking around, huh?” she continued, kissing my neck on the other side this time, and then pretending to bite it for a moment before pulling back. “Didn't you hear me calling you?”

  “Sure, but I thought -” Pausing, I realized that she was testing me.

  “Or did you hear something else?” she asked.

  “Like what?”

  She shrugged.

  “I didn't hear anything,” I told her.

  She stared at me for a moment. “Are you sure about that?”

  I nodded. The sobbing had clearly been her attempt to unsettle me, and the worst part was that it had almost worked for a moment.

  “I heard you,” I told her. “Calling out to me, I mean. I couldn't find you, though. This place is like a warren.”

  “Yeah,” she muttered, smiling at me even though she seemed a little disappointed by my answer, “even I don't quite remember my way around.” Grabbing my hand, she began to lead me back the way I'd just come. “I wanna show you the old library, though. And then the kitchen. And oh my God, the nursery! Seriously, you're gonna love the house! I'd forgotten how beautiful it is!”

  “Sure,” I replied, although I felt certain there'd be more little tricks. Evidently, Rachel wanted to change my mind and make me believe something else was in the house with us. Fortunately, I was already wise to her little games.

  Chapter Five

  “So is this where we're hoping to find your uncle's paperwork?” I asked, pulling open a drawer in the desk but finding nothing inside. I took a look in another drawer and saw a beetle inside, and then I turned and saw that Rachel was looking at the bookshelves, seemingly searching for something in particular. “That is why we're here, isn't it?”

  “Oh, his stuff'll be around somewhere,” she replied airily, clearly more focused on the shelves. “Relax. We'll start tomorrow.”

  “How important are these documents?” I continued, closing the drawer to give the beetle some privacy, and then stepping around the desk. “Can your parents not sell the house without them?”

  “They can,” she muttered, stepping back from the shelves for a moment, “but...”

  Her voice trailed off.

  “But what?”

  “Huh?” She turned to me with a frown. “Oh, but it'll be way easier if they find his will, that's all. I don't understand exactly, but they wanted me to come find it. Daddy was going on about it last weekend, blah blah blah, and eventually he wore me down and I said I'd come take a look. I figured it'd be a fun chance to get away with you for a few days. Don't stress, it won't be a big job.”

  With that, she grabbed an old leather armchair from the corner and began dragging it over toward the far end of the nearest bookshelf.

  “What are you doing?” I asked as I made my way over and helped.

  “I'm just looking for a book I remember from years ago,” she replied. “Stop!”

  Stepping back, I watched as she climbed up onto the chair and craned her neck to get a better view of one of the higher shelves. For someone who clearly loved the history of the house, she had no compunction when it came to clambering over the furniture.

  “Mummy and Daddy want to hire some awful clearance firm to gut the place,” she explained, putting one foot on one of the chair's arms and one on the other, as I got into position to catch her if she fell. “There are just a few items I remember from my childhood, and I really want to save them. This one book...”

  Again her voice trailed off, and then suddenly she put both her feet on one of the chair's arms. I adjusted my position, still poised to grab her at any moment.

  “What are we going to do when it gets dark?” I asked.

  “Huh?”

  “It's almost four,” I continued, “and it's already not so light outside. Shouldn't we fix the power soon?”

  “There's no power,” she replied absently, as if the matter was rather trivial. “I mean, here's the thing, like, I checked the fuse-box and it's ruined.”

  “Maybe I should take a look.”

  “I know how a fuse-box works, James. It's stuffed.”

  “But -”

  “Trust me,” she continued, interrupting me. “It's not of a big deal. We just don't have any juice for the lights.”

  “None at all?” I paused as she continued to search for the book. “So we won't have any lights tonight?”

  “What's wrong?” she asked, smiling as she glanced down at me. “Scared of ghosts?”

  “I'd just like to see where I'm going if I get up to use the toilet in the night. I'd like to know if there's a beetle in the bowl.”

  “Well, don't worry,” she continued, holding onto the bookcase as she leaned precariously to one side. The heavy chair looked as if it might topple over at any moment. “After all, you don't believe in ghosts, do you?”

  “But you do,” I pointed out.

  “That's because I'm open-minded,” she muttered, leaning even further.

  “Careful,” I replied, moving around to get a better angle in case she fell.

  “There are a few old stories about this place,” she continued, “but I figured there's no point telling you, seeing as how you don't have time for that sort of thing. Don't worry, I'm not judging you, I just don't want to waste your time. Besides, if you do happen to see or hear anything unusual, I don't want you to blame me for putting the idea in your head.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning that if you experience a -” She paused, before glancing at me again. “Well, like I said, I don't want to say. Let's just wait and see if you hear anything.”

  I waited as she leaned even further.

  “What exactly do you think I might hear?” I asked after a moment, hoping I might get her to admit to her little trick. I was pretty certain she'd been deliberately making that sobbing sound
in an attempt to freak me out, and I was hoping to nip the whole thing in the bud.

  “What exactly do you think one might hear in a house like this?” she asked.

  “I have no idea.”

  “Have you heard anything since we arrived?”

  She glanced down at me, and I shook my head.

  “Nothing?”

  “Nothing,” I continued, starting to feel a little irritated. “Why? Should I have?”

  She stared at me for a moment, before looking back up at the books and leaning even further. “If you just -”

  Suddenly the chair began to tip. Stepping back, I reached up and grabbed Rachel by the waist as she toppled down on top of me, and finally I landed hard on the wooden floor, with Rachel slamming down on top of me and knocking the air from my lungs. I let out a loud gasp, but she was already laughing as she rolled off and held up the book she'd managed to grab at the last moment.

  “I found it!” she said triumphantly.

  “I'm fine, by the way,” I gasped, which was more or less true. “Don't worry about me!”

  “I used to read this over and over,” she continued, opening the book and flipping through its pages.

  “What is it?” I asked, peering at the cover and seeing some mention of the supernatural.

  “Oh...” She paused, before setting the book aside and rolling closer to me, “nothing. Never mind.”

  “It must be something,” I pointed out. “You damn near crushed me as you were reaching for it and -”

  Before I could finish, she leaned closer and planted a long, slow kiss on my lips, while gently putting a hand on the side of my face. The kiss lingered for half a minute, maybe a little longer, before she pulled back. I knew exactly what she was doing. She was deploying her so-called mind-wipe kiss, which she used whenever she wanted to distract me. This time, I wasn't going to let it work.

  “What's the book?” I asked. “Is it -”

  She kissed me again, this time slipping her tongue into my mouth and moving her hand down to my waist. I couldn't bring myself to push her away, but I still felt as if she was trying to distract me.