The Body at Auercliff (6 page)

Chapter Ten

“You must be freezing,” I tell Emily as I shut the back door and turn the key. “I should never have let you go outside wearing just your night-dress.”

“You
did
see her, didn't you?” she asks. “Oh please, tell me you did!”

“I'm sorry,” I reply, “but...”

My voice trails off, and I feel as if I'm starting to understand how Emily gets so many cuts and bruises. If she rushes about like this when no-one else is here, she probably falls regularly.

“She's really out there,” Emily mutters, stepping past me and looking out the window again. “I wish I knew what she wanted, what she's been waiting for all these years. And that sound -”

She flinches.

“Don't you hear it?” she adds.

“Hear what?”

“The scratching!”

I pause for a moment, but I don't hear anything at all.

“Of course you don't,” she mutters, “it's just...”

I wait for her to continue, but after a moment I join her at the window and look out at the dark lawn. Patches of moonlight illuminate the forest in the distance, and I can just about make out the old mausoleum far away. That thing has always given me the creeps, ever since I was a little girl and first came to understand that it contains the bodies of Auercliff's dead. God knows why anyone would want to store people in a mausoleum rather than burying them in the village churchyard, but I guess someone started the tradition a long time ago and no-one has seen fit to end it since. Of course, childhood curiosity got the better of me one day, and I still hate thinking back to the moment when I ventured into the mausoleum and the door swung shut.

“The poor thing,” Emily whispers. “Imagine being a lost soul, trapped after death.”

“Do you know who she is?” I ask cautiously. “I mean, who she's
supposed
to be?”

“I always thought she was little Verity,” she continues, “the girl who died here many years before I ever set foot in the house. I'm not sure of that, of course, but it's my best bet. Verity was the daughter of Reginald, my dear Martin's late great-grandfather. I believe she was fourteen years old when she died of the flu. I tried to research more of her story, but Martin's family was always rather poor at record-keeping. He left some research papers behind, though.”

“And no-one else has ever seen her?”

“Only me and...” She pauses. “Well, your mother saw her once.”

“My mother?” I stare at her, too shocked to really comprehend what she's saying.

She nods. “Once. A long time ago, during a visit.”

“My mother claimed to have seen a ghost?” I reply, still unable to believe such a crazy idea. “
My
mother? Aunt Emily, my mother is Barbara, remember?”

“I know
that
!” she replies with a smile. “She was here once and we both saw the little girl's spirit.”

“My mother said she'd seen a ghost?” I ask. “Are you sure she -”

“She admitted it,” she continues, interrupting me. “I know, I was surprised too. Barbara was always so stubborn and dismissive of the whole idea, but she saw the ghost. She was very clear on the matter.”

“
My
mother said that?” I stammer, still trying to wrap my head around the idea. “Are you sure it wasn't just a puff of smoke from one of her cigarettes?”

“She saw the ghost,” she replies. “I remember that day very well. Barbara was the first, and to date
only
, other person who has ever witnessed the spirit that haunts Auercliff. Well, the only one who admitted it, anyway. I always rather felt that my dear Martin wasn't entirely honest about these things.”

Staring at her, I realize that she seems more lucid and clear that at any other point since I arrived.

“Aunt Emily,” I say cautiously, “who was the dead woman on the bed?”

She turns to me, and this time I swear I can see a hint of fear in her eyes.

“You know, don't you?” I continue. “Please, just tell me.”

I wait, but she seems too shocked to answer.

“Who was she?” I ask. “If you know, you have to tell me.”

Again I wait, and it seems as if she's on the verge of saying something.

“What are you talking about?” she snaps finally. “What girl?”

“You must know,” I tell her. “There can't have been someone else in the house, not without you realizing!”

“The woman in the...” She pauses, before suddenly turning and looking across the dark kitchen as we both hear a creak from somewhere else in the house.

“Stay focused,” I continue, hoping to keep her mind from drifting off again. “Emily, who was the woman?”

She turns to me, but I can already tell that she's lost.

“It's getting dark,” she stammers finally. “It's late. You'll have to get going if you're to secure at room in the village. There's a pub, you know, it's called the King's Head. It's a little old-fashioned, but they have rooms and -”

“I'd rather stay here tonight,” I tell her. “I'm worried about you.”

“You
can't
stay here,” she replies. “No, absolutely not. You must get going at once, and go to the King's Head. They'll have rooms, I'm sure of it.”

“I know,” I remind her. “I stayed there last night, remember?”

“You did?” She pauses, as if the news if a complete surprise. “At the King's Head?”

I nod.

“It's a pub,” she continues, “in the village. The King's Head, yes, that's what it's called...” She frowns. “They have rooms, I believe. You can stay there, but you must hurry. You don't want to get there too late.”

***

“I'll be back first thing in the morning,” I tell her a short while later, as I arrange the bedsheets. “We need to talk seriously about getting you into hospital, Emily.”

“What time is it?” she asks, staring up at me with wide, fearful eyes.

Sighing, I check my watch. “A little after ten. I just -”

“You must leave!” she gasps, sitting up and trying to push me away from the bed. “It's far too late for you to be here! Go, right now!”

“Why?” I ask, shocked by the panic in her voice. “I know it's your house and you have every right to not let me stay the night, but is there a reason? You seem fine with having me around during the day.”

“Just leave,
please
,” she continues, looking past me and staring at the open doorway for a moment. “I shall be quite alright, so long as I know that you're not here.”

“But if -”

Pausing, I realize that she seems genuinely terrified of something.

“Do you have nightmares?” I ask cautiously, hoping to perhaps nudge her back into a moment of clarity. “Do you sleep okay?”

“The King's Head,” she replies, reaching out and giving my hand a squeeze. “It's very clean and reasonably priced. The landlord can be rather officious and stuck in his ways, but he'll give you a perfectly good welcome.” She squeezes my hand tighter, and for a moment I can feel her bulbous, swollen joints pressing against my knuckles. “Be a good girl, Rebecca, and don't try to force the subject.”

I open my mouth to ask more, but instead I hold back. She seems lost in her dementia once again, but at the same time she managed to remember my name and call me Rebecca.

“I'll be back early,” I tell her finally. “I want to talk to you properly about a trip to hospital, okay?”

“Okay,” she replies, with tears in her eyes. “I understand. Anything you like, but you must leave
now
!”

Although it pains me to leave her alone, I eventually head out of the room and make my way downstairs. I potter about in the kitchen for a while longer, finding a few extra jobs to get done, before realizing that I'm simply delaying the moment when I go back to the King's Head. Once I've made sure everything is safe, I go out through the front door and head to my car. Once I'm in the driver's seat, however, I can't help looking back at the dark house and thinking about poor Emily, alone in there.

I reach out to start the engine, but suddenly I pause.

I can't leave her like this. I just can't.

For a moment, I consider sneaking back into the house and sleeping in one of the many abandoned rooms. After all, she'd never know any different. At the same time, I hate the idea of lying to her, even if it's in her best interest. Finally, I realize that although I promised I wouldn't sleep in the house, I didn't say anything about not sleeping nearby.

I've slept in my car before. Leaning back in the driver's seat, I stare at the house and realize that I can spend the night right here. Somehow, I feel as if anything is preferable to abandoning my aunt. Plus, I'm slightly worried that she gets up and bumbles about at night, and that she maybe even leaves the house in search of ghosts or whatever else she thinks she sees and hears. If I'm going to help her, I need to know exactly what she's up to.

Adjusting the seat, I lean back a little, while still staring at the dark house ahead. At least this way, I can check to see what
really
happens during the night at Auercliff.

Part Two

Rebecca - 1997

Chapter Eleven

“It's huge! It's like a mansion!”

Clambering forward, I squeeze between the car's front seats, only for Mum to immediately push me back.

“It's not a mansion,” she says firmly, between puffs on her cigarette. “It's just a very, very... very big house.”

“Are you sure it's not a mansion?” Dad asks as he brings the car to a halt on the gravel driveway.

“Yes!” Mum snaps. “Try not to ask questions, Dan. You're not very good at it.”

“But what's the technical -”

“Will you shut up?” she hisses to him, before taking another deep puff. “Don't encourage her to ask all these ridiculous questions!”

“Is that Aunt Emily?” I ask, watching as a woman steps out from the front door. She's wearing some kind of floral-patterned shawl, and her feet are bare. She looks kinda cool.

“God give me strength,” Mum mutters, angrily stubbing her cigarette out. “Yes, dear. That's your Aunt Emily. And if she starts talking about pixies and fairies all that crap, just smile and try to act like she's not insane. Christ, Becky, you're twelve years old and – trust me – you're already smarter than your crazy aunt.”

***

“Do you think there are ghosts?” Nathan whispers as we step through the front door. “There
have
to be ghosts. A house this big and this old, there must be like a law or something that they have ghosts.”

Staring open-mouthed at the large, red-carpeted staircase that runs up toward huge windows on the landing, I can't help feeling that I've entered a whole new world. Auercliff is like a house from a picture book, and the whole place smells of lots of different types of wood. Stepping over to a large dresser in the corner, I lean close and take a deep sniff, breathing in the rich aroma. I've only smelled something like this once before, and that was when Mum took me to a little antiques store in a village.

I like this smell.

Turning, I see a wall full of old portraits. I bet the people in the pictures all lived here once, a long time ago.

“Becky,” Mum says suddenly, snapping her fingers. “Stop gawping like an idiot and get over here.”

“There
are
ghosts,” Nathan says, his voice filled with awe as I head back over to join them. “There's probably, like, a headless knight and a -”

Mum clips him around the back of the head.

“Ow!” he gasps, stepping forward.

“Enough of that!” she hisses, taking a drag from another cigarette as Dad struggles in with all the suitcases and backpacks.

“I'll help!” I tell her, but I only manage a few steps toward the door before Mum grabs my arm and pulls me back.

“He can manage,” she tells me. “It's one of the few things he's good at, sweetheart.”

“Mum,” Nathan continues, turning to her, “there
are
ghosts here, aren't there? There have to be!”

Sighing, she reaches out to clip his ear again, but this time he ducks out of the way and keeps his distance.

“For fuck's sake,” Mum hisses, “don't talk about things like that! You'll only set your aunt off again.”

“Does Aunt Emily believe in ghosts?” I ask.

Mum glances at me, and I can immediately see from the look in her eyes that she doesn't like the question. In fact, she doesn't seem to like any questions at all. Even by her usual standards, Mum seems especially annoyed today.

“I'm sorry if the place is a little dusty!” Aunt Emily calls out suddenly, from the next room. “I've had the windows open all morning to air the house out, but there hasn't been much of a breeze!”

“God forbid she might fork out for a cleaner,” Mum sighs, taking another deep puff on her cigarette before glancing down at me. “She could afford it, you know. She was left more than enough money to pay for someone to come and tidy the place up before we arrive, but
does
she? Does she hell. I'm not saying it's disrespectful, but...” She rolls her eyes. “Don't touch anything,” she adds. “And don't
break
anything!”

“Barbara?” Aunt Emily continues as she comes back through. “What kind of tea should I put on?”

“Christ,” Mum mutters, heading through to the next room to join her, “tea's tea. It's all the bloody same.”

“But Barbara, we have -”

“Yorkshire!” Mum yells. “Just put bloody Yorkshire tea on!”

Emily runs after her, still fussing about different types of tea, and I can hear Mum in the distance already complaining about something else.

Left alone in the hallway, Nathan and I still can't help staring around at the large, slightly gloomy hallway. Nathan's two years younger than me, so he usually runs around a lot like a little baby, but even
he
seems amazed by the sheer size of the house. Looking over my shoulder, I see Dad struggling to haul a couple more suitcases from the car, and I feel a little sorry for him but I figure Mum'll only get mad if I go to help. Instead, I make my way to the foot of the stairs and look up, trying to imagine what it's like up there. When we reached the driveway, I saw that Auercliff is huge, which means there must be lots and lots of rooms, which means it must be hard for Aunt Emily to live in the entire place. There must be parts of the house she almost never goes to. Places to explore.

Without even thinking about it, I make my way up the first couple of steps.

“Becky!” Nathan hisses. “Stop!”

Turning to him, I can't help smiling when I see the fear in his eyes.

“We're not allowed upstairs!” he whines.

“We're going to
sleep
upstairs,” I point out. “Aunt Emily isn't going to make us sleep on the sofas, dummy.”

“But you might upset someone!” Hurrying over, he grabs my hand and tries to pull me back down, although I quickly slip free from his clammy grip. “Becky!”

“Are you scared?” I ask.

“No!”

“Are you sure?”

“I'm not scared, I just don't want to get into trouble!”

“With who?” I continue. “Mum and Dad? Or...” I pause, smiling as I see the fear growing in his expression. “Are you worried about making the ghosts angry?”

“Do you think there
are
ghosts here?” he replies, clearly enthralled by the idea.

“Dad!” I call out, as Dad lugs the final suitcases through the front door. “How old is this house?”

“Oh, hundreds of years,” he replies breathlessly, forcing a little smile as he turns and pushes the big old wooden door shut. “Three, four hundred, something like that. No, more. Six hundred maybe.”

“Has anyone ever died here?” I ask.

He frowns. “Well... I suppose it's possible.”

I turn to Nathan and see the fear in his eyes. “Did you hear that?” I ask. “People have died at Auercliff, and you know what that means! There have to be ghosts! If people have died here, there can't
not
be!”

“You don't know that,” Nathan replies cautiously.

“It's true, isn't it?” I continue, turning to Dad. “If a house is old enough, and if people have died there, there'll always be ghosts.”

“I'm not sure it works
quite
like that.”

“It does,” I add, turning to Nathan. “It makes sense. Houses are sticky, they keep the souls of the people who die there, and then those people haunt the house forever. If you don't believe me, wait until tonight!” I turn and look up at the wall of portraits. “I bet all these people died here, every single one of them. And they're probably all still kicking about somewhere, haunting the place.”

“Dad,” Nathan whines, “tell her she's being stupid!”

“Better be careful where
you
die,” I continue, “because then you'll be stuck there forever, haunting it.”

“That's not true!” Nathan says firmly, but I can tell I'm upsetting him. In fact, I think he might even be close to tears.

“Becky, be nice to your brother,” Dad says as he steps past us, heading through to the room where Mum and Aunt Emily can already be heard disagreeing over something. “Auercliff isn't haunted, it's just a nice old house. Try to play nicely with each other, okay? Whatever you do, don't upset your mother.”

“Are you scared of ghosts?” I ask Nathan, keeping my voice down so we won't be overheard.

“No!”

“Then we'll go exploring tonight, after everyone else is asleep.”

“I don't want to!”

“Because you're scared?”

“Because it's stupid!”

Smiling, I turn and look up the stairs again, and Nathan does the same. Dust is drifting through the air, but I'm looking at the empty space at the top of the stairs, in front of the large window. For a moment, I almost expect to see something walking past, although I suppose ghosts are a little more shy than that. If
I
was a ghost and
I'd
been dead for a long time, I'd definitely hide for a while, instead of jumping out right away. I mean, ghosts are still people, with the same fears and thoughts as the rest of us. They're just dead, that's the only difference. I guess they don't suddenly become mean, unless they were mean when they were alive.

Suddenly there's a faint creaking sound from somewhere upstairs, as if a door opened slightly.

Nathan gasps and steps back.

I can't hide a faint smile.

“That's one of them,” I whisper, even though I know it really
might
have just been a door. I turn to Nathan. “It knows we're here. It'll come out tonight for sure!”