Halton Cray (Shadows of the World Book 1) (3 page)

I headed to the Cray the
next afternoon from New Cromley, having completely forgotten about the rude man
I’d hit with the jeep on Saturday. That is until I walked through the reminding
car park that was again clothed in mist. – ‘Doing my lipstick!’ I recollected
with irritation.

Mrs Evans approved my grey suit trousers and white
V-neck sweater, before showing me the staffroom and other rooms off limits to
the public. Before now, they’d been secreted spaces behind locked doors when I
was just a visitor. Despite her elegant appearance, it was a strange clash that
Mrs Evans slapped her jaws together over a piece of chewing gum. She excused
this later saying that she was trying to give up smoking. Unless my nose
deceived me, she wasn’t trying very hard.

She introduced me to other staff members. The
first was Frances, who was thirty-something, blonde and softly spoken. She wore
oval-shaped glasses and came across as bubbly. I noticed straight away a bond
between her and Mrs Evans, whom she called by her first name, Doreen. I wouldn’t
assume that liberty.

 ‘I met your friend yesterday,’ she said in a
friendly murmur. ‘She seems very nice. If there’s anything you need help with,
and Doreen isn’t around, you just come and find me.’

I thanked her and – since Mrs Evans hadn’t
mentioned it – asked what she did here.

‘Oh, just about everything and anything that needs
doing! I’m a steward: a guide, a cleaner, even a bouncer at times!’ She laughed
softly.

Geoffrey was another steward I met, who must have
been in his sixties – about the same age as Mrs Evans. He spoke briefly and had
a habit of winking every other sentence. I could only hope he wasn’t flirting.
He did the same to Frances, so I concluded it must’ve been a tic, or his way of
being sweet.

Mrs Evans took me to the front desk where I’d
sometimes be working, and went through my duties of taking in the post on
Saturdays and distributing it.

‘The desk can be left unattended for short
periods, since it’s free admission,’ she reminded me for the third time. I’d be
directing visitors, sorting leaflets and maps, answering the telephone and
taking bookings. It felt strange to think that Stacey was in my position
yesterday learning the same ropes.

Mrs Evans introduced me properly to Susan in the
shop, who’d just finished serving a customer. Perhaps she was in her forties –
I’ve never been very good at guessing age – with choppy bobbed hair that was
jet-black and slightly greasy. When she said hello I’m sure she only mimed it.

Approaching the last hour of my shift, Mrs Evans left
me unsupervised at the front desk. Even with the door closed and my jacket on it
was chilly. A few visitors came and went, hardly looking my way. Mrs Evans left
a radio on for me, too loud for the chat-show station she’d chosen – I turned
it down a bit. She soon returned to offer me a cup of tea. As she spoke, I heard
the echo of a door close somewhere far-off, followed by distant footsteps. I
listened to them with interest: something vague about them. At that moment, the
radio startled me – it started switching stations by itself across a number of
frequencies, blaring high-pitched awful sounds. Mrs Evans hardly noticed. It’d
made me jump in the chair. I leant over and quickly switched it off at the
socket before my ears bled.

‘You’ll get used to it,’ said the woman casually,
though with a little gravity on her face. ‘This part of the house is precious
old. Nearly five centuries, you know. There’ll be a few unexplainable things,
you mark my words.’

She said it like her nerves had gotten used to it
but her mind had not. Whether it left her too curious or too foreboding, I
wasn’t sure. I felt the reverse of that.

‘You will get used to it,’ she repeated.

‘I’m sure I will,’ I affirmed, settling back into
the chair. ‘Whether or not my nerves do is another matter. I’m startled easily,
always have been, but I’m not afraid of things that go bump in the night.’

‘You don’t think that you should be?’ she responded
rather sharply, knitting her eyebrows together. ‘You’re from these parts, so
you must have heard all the stories. Sir Halton’s ghost for instance?’

‘Of course.’ I smiled. ‘But I don’t give it much
credence. I’ve never seen his ghost, though I’ve been here often enough.’

‘I know people who
have
seen it,’ she volunteered
proudly. ‘I could never say I have myself. I’m sure it wouldn’t be pleasant to
see the ghost of a killer!’

‘Killer? I’m not aware that he killed anyone.’

‘No, but he would’ve done given half the chance.’

‘You believe those stories then?’ – As I asked this,
I realised that those footsteps had gained the other end of the hallway. I felt
a presence there, but from my seat could see no one.

‘They’re not just stories, young lady,’ Mrs Evans
continued, shaking her head. ‘They’re history, and part of this house.
Everybody knows what he was.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Only the eldest son of the last real master here.
He was to inherit everything and the Baronetcy as well. But he was very
wayward, had huge debts and got two or three of the maidservants pregnant. They
say he was fond of one of them and wanted to keep her as a mistress. But she
was turned out on her ear for being seduced. She’s said to have hung herself
off the balcony at the top of the North East Wing. Then he lost his mind over
her death. The master had had enough of his son’s trouble by then, so turned
him away and disinherited him in favour of a younger brother. It changed the
dynasty, as it were, because the second son was the end of the Sir Haltons. But
the elder brother returned years later, came charging down Bourne Hill on his
steed, gunning for them all, they say. If he hadn’t‘ve fallen on that bend in
the road, he’d have murdered the lot of them. But his horse went down and it
killed him, lucky for them!’

She turned her eyes towards the corridor where the
sound of footsteps began again, until they were manifestly at the bottom of the
stairs.

‘So,’ she said, glancing behind herself, ‘that’s
why I think you should mind out for things. It’s not all pleasant stories in a
grand house like this.’

‘I’m open-minded.’ I shrugged nonchalantly.
‘Besides, people only fear what they don’t understand. Once it’s explained it’s
usually something they can deal with.’

‘You might change your mind,’ was her odd reply.
She looked round from the desk to that someone I still couldn’t see from where
I sat.

Her voice was grave. ‘Thomas,’ she said, barely acknowledging
a familiar dark-haired man who then passed us.

I recognised him instantly from the car park. I
couldn’t believe that by the looks of it he worked here. A chill on the air
revealed that distinct spicy scent again.

‘Evening,’ was his automatic rejoinder, in a deep
exacting voice.

He strolled by not looking in my direction –
though I felt he was aware of my presence – and disappeared through the main
door. I stayed very still at the desk, relying on Mrs Evans’s sporadic amnesia
to neglect an introduction. The last thing I needed on my first day was my new
boss learning of that incident in the car park. She peered over the tops of her
spectacles at me, probably trying to remember who I was and what I was doing
here.

‘Maybe I should have introduced you,’ she said, noticing
that I looked out a small side window to see where he went, which she probably
mistook for curiosity when in fact it was apprehension. ‘Except,’ she trailed
out on exhaling, ‘I want you to come back.’ She seemed to brood for a moment.
‘All in good time,’ she kindly threatened.  

Four

‘No, sir; I can make no hand of it; I can’t describe
him. And it’s not want of memory; for I declare I can see him this moment.’

– Robert Louis Stevenson,
Jekyll
and Hyde

‘Now what was I doing?’
Mrs Evans fretted.

‘Making tea,’ I reminded her.

She nodded a little gasp and vanished down the
corridor.

A few minutes later Frances appeared, admitting
that
Doreen
had asked her to keep me company in the meantime. It was odd
since she’d been okay to leave me earlier.

‘Have you worked here long?’ I asked her.

‘Just under a year.’

I noticed again how pleasantly she spoke, always
in that soft murmur laced with a little excitement.

‘It’s a lovely place to work. You get to meet all
sorts of people.’ She went to say something else but looked uncomfortable to go
on, as if assessing my nature. Then she laughed. ‘Hmm, they do say this place
is haunted’ – she made an O with her mouth – ‘but I’m sure you’d expect that.
So don’t be put off if you find it a bit strange.’

‘I don’t mind its eeriness. I know the Cray fairly
well and I think it adds to its character. Have
you
experienced anything
uncanny?’

‘Nothing that can’t be explained by a draught or
my mind playing tricks on me,’ she murmured sceptically, before scratching her
head. ‘Obviously we do get a lot of people reporting things they can’t explain,
such as the grand organ being played when of course it’s all locked up. People
say they’ve heard the Wailing Lady in the turret the moment it gets dark, as
well as claims of things being moved. So I would expect that type of thing if I
were you. There were some workmen here a few months ago doing renovations
upstairs. One of them said his hardhat was snatched from his head, and when he
turned around it was on the table on the other side of the room. He swore blind
no one else was in there.’ She giggled. ‘And he wouldn’t work here another
day!’

‘I should probably tell you, Frances, Stacey’s not
a fan of ghost stories. I wouldn’t want to see her upset by them – that’s all.’

‘Yes, well, we did notice that when she sat there
yesterday she jumped every time a door closed, and pulled a face when the central
heating made the wood creak.’

‘She’s always been like it. To be honest, I’m
shocked she’s working here, but especially considering the disappearance of that
girl. But Stacey must have already heard she’d been found.’

‘It was a very odd affair,’ murmured Frances. ‘She
vanished into thin air. We found some of her things here on the premises, like
her mobile phone. We all got involved in a search but found nothing else of
her. You
do
know that she was discovered at her own home hiding in the
loft?’

‘What? Was she there all along?’

‘Nobody knows. She won’t talk about it. I spoke to
her mother, to see if she wanted visitors, but she told me she’s too skittish
to see anyone. She’s been acting as if someone’s coming for her.’ Frances bit
her lower lip. ‘Very odd, isn’t it? We thought that finding her would be the
answer to the big question, but it’s just added so many more.’

‘Does that have anything to do with why the other
girl left?’

‘Rebecca? Oh, I don’t know.’ She paused, taking
off her glasses to wipe them. ‘Stacey told me you two have been friends since
school, and that you have another job in New Cromley. Did you come straight
here from there?’

‘Yes,’ I said, noticing how she’d changed the
subject. ‘It’s one bus. I’ve an hour to get from door to door.’

As we talked,
he
, Thomas that is,
re-entered the building and began passing us without looking our way. Despite the
chilly day he wore his shirtsleeves rolled up, exposing the dark hair on his forearms.
By this and his full eyebrows I could see that one day off shaving would leave
a mass of stubble on his face.

While in mid-sentence Frances caught sight of him
and breaking away for a moment half turned to call him back.

‘Over here, Thom!’ She beckoned softly with a
little wave of her hand. He turned his head a couple of inches, gave her a firm
nod and kept walking. Frances went on in such a sweet voice that even this dismissive
soul could not ignore her. My stomach collapsed as he stopped dead before
turning to face me.

‘Now don’t let him scare you,’ she whispered.

I frowned in confusion:
scare
me?

‘Thom, have you met Alex?’

He stared. Even under the ceiling lights his
pupils remained fully dilated.

‘In a fashion,’ came his stern reply.

I grimaced inwardly at what he might say and
fidgeted under the desk. Overcoming it quickly, I got up. Although he stood at
least three yards from me, I held out my hand for a formal greeting. He looked
at it, but did not move.

‘I suppose you’re no threat to me today being that
you came by public transport.’

It surprised me he knew that and I wondered if
he’d overheard us talking. I wasn’t surprised at the mockery; in fact, I was
glad it wasn’t worse. He stayed still and I let my hand fall subtly to the
desk, unshaken.

‘Are you a detective?’ I cocked my head.

‘So where is it?’ he said gruffly, ignoring my
remark. ‘Impounded? Abandoned somewhere in a ditch?’

‘My stepbrother has it,’ I answered, unperturbed.

‘Repairing the damage is he?’

‘He’s the owner. I just borrow it now and then.’

‘“Now and then?”’ he quoted, supressing a smile. ‘Lucky
me! If
now and then
falls on the waning of the moon.’

Frances looked at my primed face bewildered. She
turned back to Thom, as if to ask what he was talking about. Before she said a word,
he was looking at her and talking more of this nonsense as if I wasn’t there.

‘If only all the maniacs with a licence to kill
were deprived of their vehicles, eh?’

She didn’t answer him but gave a short baffled
chuckle.

‘She tried to kill me, Frances. Plunged into me
with her monster truck!’

‘I tapped him!’ I insisted, wide-eyed.

He turned his black eyes on me again. ‘And how is
it you’ve come to work here? I wasn’t aware that the Cray’s management had
agreed to partake in some rehabilitation program, where the mentally peculiar are
integrated back into society.’ He leant forward, as if to whisper, but kept his
voice at the same pitch. ‘Isn’t someone supposed to accompany you? Where is
your attendant to keep you from doing harm? Well here she is!’ He looked back to
Frances and directed his cryptic speech to her. ‘I’ve done my best, Frances, to
be a good citizen, and pay my taxes, and obey the law.
We
are the guinea
pigs here! Since the crazed are let loose to wander the streets,
I
want
to be locked up in a cell.’

I felt I
needed an interpreter while he
talked like this. Goodness knows what Frances was thinking. I decided not to provoke
him with wisecracks since he was prepared to go to war with me, and he had more
ammunition than I did. Instead, I determined to kill him with kindness. I gave
him a generous smile and told him it was nice to meet him properly. To this he
elevated one eyebrow, attempted a sneer, and abruptly walked away. Frances
smiled as though it was a successful introduction.

‘Who taught you to how to handle Thom?’ She
giggled. ‘I’ve never known anyone to talk to him like that.’

‘My stepfather,’ I blurted in a reflex, and then smiled
awkwardly. ‘He had no mercy when it came to teasing me. I learnt fast that I
either jabbed him first or refused to rise to it. Either way worked depending
on the occasion.’

I heard that distant echo of a door close. I
really didn’t know how to take Thom. One thing I wanted to know: what was his
job? From this I might be able to gauge how often I’d have to put up with him.
I was about to ask Frances when she said she could hear Doreen coming with the
tea.

‘When’s your next day here, Alex?’

‘Thursday.’

‘Until Thursday then!’

On that said day, while unpacking deliveries in
the shop, a baby-faced blonde man strolled in and approached me. He looked like
a dodgy car salesman dressed in a dark blue suit that didn’t quite fit, and carried
a mobile phone. He stopped in front of me.

‘You’re one of the new girls, right?’ He grinned.
‘So which one are you?’

‘Alex.’

‘Alex Turner?’ His grin increased. ‘As in…?’

‘I don’t know him and can’t get you tickets,’ I
said in earnest. Some people really did make this leap on what was nothing more
than a similar name. ‘And you are?’

‘Daniel. Dan, if you like. I’m the assistant curator
here,’ he announced proudly. ‘And what about the other one? What’s her name?’

‘Stacey,’ I told him, while pulling my hair up into
a ponytail. ‘We job share. She was here yesterday.’

‘Ah, I wasn’t here yesterday. I was at another
site. I’m only here a couple of days each week. I’m surprised Mrs E got a
couple of newbies so fast.’

‘Well, she was already interviewing for someone to
replace Tess. Then of course Rebecca walked out the other day at short notice.’

‘It wasn’t quite short notice.’ He frowned. ‘She’s
been pretty upset for weeks, not to mention someone here scaring her half to
death–’

His phone rang and without looking at it he said, ‘That’ll
be the wife. She’s off work today and so she’s bored. She only calls me when she’s
bored! Catch you later.’

He left the shop hurriedly, putting the phone to
his ear. I heard him pass Geoffrey in the entrance hall doing his bit as a tour
guide: showing a class of schoolchildren the haunted turret. He told them how
the last Cray family had had the spiral staircase removed a century ago,
because they could hear the Wailing Lady wandering them. It made me wonder who
had scared Rebecca, and perhaps even Tess originally. I listened to the kids go
about the corridors of the Cray, screaming intermittently, trying to frighten
one another. I found myself reminiscing dolefully my own adventures here at
that age.

For my break I took a snack to the main courtyard and
sat on a bench opposing the padlocked cellar doors. Rows of arched windows pierced
the enclosing redbrick walls, while the rising White Tower disappeared into the
fog above. It was cold out, but the staffroom was a boring stuffy shell and I
didn’t have time to wander far. Frances noticed me from an adjacent corridor and
came to ask how I was settling in.

‘I won’t stay out long, Alex, my coat is inside.
But you look like you need a warmer one yourself.’

‘Maybe next payday,’ I smiled, shovelling in more
pasta.

I don’t know from which direction he came, but
Thom poked his head out the door to one side of the alley and shouted, ‘Who
gave you that fork?’ he demanded, looking straight at me.

Instinctively my eyes drew down to it.

‘Doesn’t anybody know you’re not allowed sharp
instruments?’ he continued, shaking his head. ‘Frances? – don’t we have any
sponge forks, or foam spoons for the new inmate?’

‘Foam what?’ she enquired.

‘Never mind!’ He smirked and went back inside
whistling a tune.

‘Oh!’ She laughed, rubbing her arms to keep warm.
‘He’s a character.’

‘Certainly is. A very changeable one.’

‘Changeable is the right word,’ she said. ‘Now I’ve
got to go and hug a radiator. See you in a bit.’

On the bus home I phoned my best friend, Beth.
We’d gone to school together and Stacey was our mutual friend. Back then Stacey
depended on Beth for help with almost everything, to the point where she’d
starve than get lunch by herself in the canteen. If I had a pound for every
time I just did things for her out of impatience… whereas Beth always took
greater pains to encourage her to do them for herself. She would still be playing
Miss Helpless now if Beth had time to take notice. As it was, Beth had a young
daughter and was training as a nurse.

‘That’s so spooky!’ were her first words on
answering my call. ‘I was just thinking to ring you. How’s the new job going? I
heard from Stacey yesterday.’ She started giggling, almost uncontrollably. She
had an infectious laugh. I knew what she was thinking.

‘She seems okay there. Steady as a leaf,’ I joked.
‘Seriously though, she hasn’t run out screaming or anything.’

‘Yet!’ Beth added. ‘She was talking about going
out this Sunday if you fancy doing something? My mum’s offered to baby-sit.’

‘Well, she did say she’d visit London Dungeons
now. I don’t know if she was serious, but we could do that.’

‘God! She
is
on a fright fest!’ She
laughed. ‘Well I’m game, but she’d better not expect me to hold her hand. We
could drive to yours in the morning and catch a train from there.’

We agreed a time and chatted a little before she
had to go. My train of thought was that moment derailed. I stepped off the bus and
saw Mark across the road, standing outside one of the local pubs: The Grapevine.
Recollection grasped me – the strange behaviour, the insult, the phone call. He
chatted to a robust man with a goatee who smoked a cigarette.

I couldn’t help glancing over as I walked. Mark
looked up and I saw him fix his eyes on me. They widened as he recognised me. His
body automatically shifted in the direction of cover. He withdrew from my sight
quickly, as if he were Doctor Frankenstein and I was the abhorred fiend he
longed never to encounter again. He tried to obscure himself within the porch
and behind part of his companion. He did not succeed but the effort was to
assure me I was not welcome. While Mark turned the other way, the fat man with
the goatee looked over to me, as if told to. How can I describe the look this
stranger gave me? From it I gathered enough: I was clearly both the topic of
their discussion and the object of their disgust. I didn’t look over again. I
turned into the next street.