Eleven New Ghost Stories (28 page)

Now Benjamin might well have
hated the strict Miss Bones and the brat Penelope, but they were
nothing compared to the vicar. Of him, we know a great deal. He had
been a soldier before he had become a man of God. He had been in
the first Boer war, where he is said to have killed more than 40
tribesmen, although that seems like hearsay. Nevertheless, he was
proud of his war service and his rooms were full of tribal relics,
animals and various foreign curiosities. He himself was a big
hulking brute of a man – there is a photograph in the archive – 6ft
tall, with wide shoulders and a slanted face, with a small scar on
his cheek and a larger one across his forehead.

A certainly frightening vision
for anyone, never mind an eleven-year-old boy.

On seeing the young Benjamin
enter his office, the vicar threw down his pen and exclaimed, “What
has the accursed boy done this time?”

Tugging the boy by the ear into
the middle of the office, Miss Claxton spoke hysterically of
Benjamin’s supposed transgression. Apparently the plant pot smashed
was a gift from the vicar to Miss Claxton, who doted on him and
treasured this return of his affection. Benjamin protested his
innocence: “I haven’t done anything, she’s lying.” The vicar struck
him: “You’ll speak when you’re spoken to!”

Refusing to admit to breaking
the plant pot, and for calling his teacher a liar, there could be
only one punishment – the cane! The vicar is said to have been
merciless in his use of the cane, but in Benjamin’s case, he
would’ve been even more severe. For the vicar was in fact
Benjamin’s uncle!

“To think that the same blood
flows through our veins!” is what he’d say to Benjamin. And not
only would he deal the severest of physical punishments, he would
also be sure to convey all that had occurred to his sister –
Benjamin’s mother.

Yes, there was no one Benjamin
hated more than his uncle.

He quivered and cried as he
pulled down his trousers and leant over the vicar’s desk.

“Don’t blubber,” The vicar
commanded. “You know full well what happens when you’re brought
into this office. I live in eternal hope that one day you’ll learn
to behave yourself and do what you’re told. But until then you will
be made to suffer the consequences of all the terrible things you
do.”

He ruthlessly gave Benjamin six
whip-strokes of his cane, causing the boy’s knees to buckle as he
squealed in pain. But the vicar heeded none of his cries, and
waited promptly for the boy to quieten down and straighten his legs
before unleashing each following stroke.

Benjamin could barely contain
his tears when he was led back to the classroom, returning to his
seat with his bottom burning and forced to continue his lessons and
then stay after school as further punishment. If the stinging pain
was not enough, he now dreaded returning home and facing his
mother, who could well unleash further punishment.

Desperately he waited; Miss
Claxton made him clean the desks and sweep the floor and clean the
blackboard as further punishment. He would ask, “Can I go now
miss?”, and she would clip him around the ear and tell him to
wait…

Eventually she let him go – and
then he bolted for it. The vicar would take a long walk in the
afternoon; if he was at least to have a chance to give his mother
his side of the story first, he had no time to lose. He raced over
cobbled streets, leapt over walls, bounded through bushes,
desperate to reach his home before the vicar.

He thought he’d made it. When he
reached his home, all was quiet. He walked through the front door
and called for his mother and she did not answer. He went through
the living room, into the dining room and into the kitchen and
there was still no sign. He thought perhaps he had been lucky;
perhaps the vicar had come while his mother was away and had not
had the chance to tell her.

He felt a rush of relief. He had
escaped yet another thrashing.

But his relief was short lived;
moving slowly past the kitchen window he saw the vicar – back on
his bicycle! And then entering from the back garden was his mother,
fresh from picking apples in the garden. Her face was taut and
twitching.

“You’ve been at it again haven’t
you!” she said.

“I didn’t do anything!” Benjamin
pleaded. But he knew she would never believe him. Who would believe
– at least back then – the words of a naughty boy over that of the
vicar, especially one who is a member of the family?

His mother had a temper; she
picked him up and she shook him. “Albie says I should send you
away” – for that was the vicar’s name. “Send you somewhere where
they’ll teach you some respect!”

This idea was more horrifying
than any other to Benjamin. He was lonely out in the country, but
it was his home and a place full of adventure. And however he might
feel about his mother’s temper tantrums, he had no wish to be taken
away from his family.

“I won’t go,” he shouted.

“You’ll do as you’re told,” she
shouted back.

“Father won’t let me go.”
Benjamin insisted. “He hates the vicar and I hate him too.”

His mother slapped him: “Don’t
you speak that way about a man of God!”

His mother rarely struck him,
not with her hand. For her to take her hand to him meant that she
might be on the verge of one of her bad episodes. Frightened and
upset, he felt he had only one course of action to take and that
was to go for his father.

He ran from the house, down the
driveway and leapt over the stone wall at the other side of the
road – that wall is still there, should you want to see it. His
mother shrieked at him to come back but he stayed crouched down
behind the wall until he heard his mother slam the door shut behind
her and it was safe to come out.

From there, Benjamin made his
way into the woods, the place where he felt the most safe. That
might sound strange to you and I, but there he was away from bad
tempered parents and teachers and punishing men of the cloth. He
had the freedom there to do as he pleased with no one to tell him
otherwise. He probably knew the woods as well as anyone who lived
in Bullham Brook. He knew the best places to fish, the best places
to hide, the best trees to climb, the place where couples might
meet to avoid the prying eyes of others – or so they thought.

He had little time to take in
his surroundings; he was still going as fast as he could to reach
his father, though he was by now naturally very tired, having
already run so far to reach his home earlier.

Benjamin’s father worked long
hours on the farm; my great grandfather Zachariah was old, but a
generous man of benevolent nature. He was good to those who worked
for him and he inspired great loyalty in them. That was good for
most, but for a boy with a highly-strung mother, it meant long
absences and too much time spent alone with a parent who could be
difficult to handle, especially for a boy of that age.

At some point during his journey
to see his father, he got so tired he had to stop and rest. He
approached the river, which runs through the forest.

He would’ve stopped to catch his
breath, perhaps washed his face in the water, taken a drink to
quench his thirst. He waited for some short time to recover; but he
was not to have much peace in what was normally his sanctuary.

At some point he was approached
by one of the last people he would’ve expected to see out there in
the woods. His childhood nemesis, Penelope!

“What are you doing here
Sourface?” – that’s what she used to call him.

Benjamin wanted to get revenge
on Penelope. Her turning up was a pain, but out here in the woods
there was no teacher to protect her.

He said he would hit her.

“You’d hit a girl would
you?”

“You’re not a girl, you’re
disgusting!”

“You wouldn’t dare,” she goaded
him. “You’re a coward, a yellow-bellied stinking coward!”

Benjamin protested, but Penelope
wished to prove to him that he was a coward and that he was not as
brave as she was…

So she told him that she had
been to the well – the only place in the valley she knew he had
never been to.

Benjamin insisted she was lying,
but she would not back down: “I have so been up there. I know you
haven’t because you’re such a coward. A little yellow-bellied
coward.”

“I am not scared,” Benjamin
cried.

“I go wherever I like,” she
cried. “I’m not afraid. I think I might just tell my mum that I saw
you up there, so she can tell your mum and get you into more
trouble.”

Angry, Benjamin chased Penelope
away. If he had not been so tired he might well have caught her,
but she got away.

Everything was going wrong for
him that day. If Penelope’s taunts were not enough, he also slipped
on the stepping stones that he used every time to take him from one
side of the river to the other. His trousers were soaked through to
his knees, nothing it seemed, could go right for him.

It was quite a trek across the
hillside to reach his father. A straight path would take Benjamin
up to a high road which would take him to where he might expect to
find him. But he was too tired to face the steep climb and ended up
walking off course, gradually up the side of the hill, forcing his
way through the tall grass, thick and heavy – it was an unwise
course and even more tiring for him.

He was only eleven, not yet so
tall. Lost amongst the tall stems he drifted further off course
than he expected. But the grass thinned after a while and he found
himself unable to quite gather his bearings. How far had he
drifted…

He soon found out. As his eyes
drifted across the landscape they found a landmark he had not
expected to find…

…The well...

He had not seen this patch of
land in years. He had never been this close to the dreaded place
his mother made him swear he would never go near.

He was – unimpressed. Looking
upon the dull stone ring he could not help but feel a sense of
anti-climax, what was all the fuss about? Parts of the river, the
wood, the mine – they were much more dangerous looking than this
unremarkable landmark. What was so special about this place?

This stoked the fire of his
curiosity once more. Why would his mother make him swear off going
to such an ordinary place? He stopped to think for a moment. He had
sworn to his mother never to go near it, that was true, but he was
angry at her for striking him and for always taking the word of the
vicious vicar. Also, there had been Penelope’s threat. She made
such threats often; she liked to toy with him. But she might follow
through, tell her mother who might then tell his own mother. But
would Penelope admit to going to the well too? Surely she wasn’t
allowed to go up this part of the hillside? If he wasn’t, why
should she?

If he was to be blamed for going
to the well, he might as well have a look. And if Penelope didn’t
say anything to her mother, well, there was no one to see him out
here. No one else to tell on him.

So he went to the well. It was
not so far for him to go, but he was so tired by then. When he
reached the stone wall, he slouched tired against it. The wall was
still strong, it held his weight without strain. He felt the stone;
it was cold and riddled with moss.

It was getting late in the
afternoon now. The sky was beginning to darken. He wondered whether
it was worth continuing on to his father; he might already be on
his way home.

After applying some force to the
well wall, to see if indeed it was strong, he put his head over the
top to look down into its depths. Unsurprisingly, it was dark, and
deep. It was hard to tell from where Benjamin was standing just how
deep it went. To find out, he rummaged amongst the grass for a
stone. When he found one, he went back to the well and dropped it
down.

It fell without a sound and
disappeared. There was no splash, no thud – no noise whatsoever
except for the whistle of the wind in the air.

Benjamin was disappointed and
thoroughly unimpressed. The well was such a let-down, what on earth
could all the fuss have been about?

He wasn’t sure what to do now.
Go home and face his mother, or go on up the hillside and hope his
father had not already left for home and that he could get his side
of the story across first?

Tired as he was, he felt it
better to take the chance and see if his father was still there at
the farm. It might at least help him to avoid further
recriminations from his mother.

He turned away from the well,
taking but a few steps, when he heard:

“Is someone there?”

He froze cold on the spot. He
had heard a voice, very loud and clear. He turned around, swept his
eyes across the hillside. He could see no one there, although it
would be easy for someone to hide amongst the tall grass. Yet the
voice had come from someone near, and surely he could’ve spotted
someone hiding so close. But he could see nothing.

Scared and unsettled, he dared
to say “Hello,” not too loud and not too quietly.

“Down here,” said the voice. And
then Benjamin realised – the voice had come from the well! He
walked slowly to the well’s wall and looked down within.

“There you are,” said the voice.
“I can see you now.”

Benjamin was panicked: “Have you
fallen? I must get help.”

“No, no, that was a long time
ago. I live down here now.”

“You live down there?”

“Yes, it’s my home.”

Benjamin was confused. “You
can’t live in a well.”

“I can, I’m special.”

“But, it’s so dark down
there.”

“I like the dark,” said his new
friend. “Do you?”

“I don’t like the dark.”

“There’s no need to be scared of
it. Not when there’s strong walls around you. What’s your
name?”