The Haunting Within (10 page)

29

On the wall opposite were more files packed back to back on the built-in bookcase. Lisa went over to them and the edge of the shelf had a piece of card attached to it reading “
Staff Files
”. Lisa was intrigued to know what kind of people worked here, what it took to care for people who were declared mentally unstable, so she teased a file from the shelf whilst carefully pushing the surrounding ones back on when they all started to come free at the same time, so densely packed was the ledge. The name on the file cover she held in her hands was Christine Perry. Inside the file it stated that Christine was a qualified nurse who had worked at the hospital for two years. It gave accounts of her personal history and her qualifications, the usual things that would be found in staff files. Her references all said she was a caring, hard-working team player who learned quickly and did a thorough job of any task she was given. It showed she had worked in her local doctor’s surgery for four years when she had left college at the age of nineteen. She then got a job at a district hospital and she had worked there for seven years until she was thirty. She decided she wanted to go back to college and study to become a psychiatric nurse so she enrolled in a college here, in Hertfordshire near Lisa’s grandfather’s hospital and worked placements throughout her college course. When she had qualified, she had been offered the job full-time, but had refused. In the file it was written in a scrawled hand that she claimed to be experiencing things that frightened her. She was quoted as saying she would often enter a room and leave the door open, but whilst she was in there the door would slam shut and an ice cold feeling would pass over her. She also claimed to have heard voices coming from the day room when no-one was in there. She asked to be transferred to another hospital because she couldn’t work here any longer.

Shivering, but not from the cold, Lisa hastily closed the file and put it back. She took out another folder. The name on the folder was Don Watson. She opened and started reading.

Don was a forty three year old orderly who left the hospital after only three months of being here. He too claimed he experienced things that he shouldn’t have experienced. On one occasion it read that he had been working the night shift when he had just left the kitchen and he saw someone walk into the treatment room. Thinking it was one of the staff - the patients were all locked in their rooms for the night - he followed to see if they wanted a coffee. He walked into the treatment room and saw that no-one was there. Assuming they must have gone elsewhere he turned to leave. After that he claimed to remember nothing until a member of staff found him. The other orderly who had heard him screaming found him cowering in a corner, crying and completely hysterical. He was unresponsive for the better part of an hour and when he did regain his faculties he claimed he did not recall what had happened. He handed in his letter of resignation the very next day. Lisa put the file back, horribly aware she was shaking as she did so. Did Don refuse to believe what he had seen? Was he in denial? Or was it that horrific that his mind had irrevocably erased the cause of his trauma? Either way she could almost feel his fear, so tangible it seemed through the paper. Not daring to read anymore she backed away from the files that contained horrors which could only be described as supernatural.             

As she moved she felt a floorboard shift under her feet. She got down on all fours and felt around until she found the loose board. She pulled back the circular beige rug that stood beneath the ornate feet of the heavy desk. Hooking her fingers under the floorboard she eased it back until she was able to see underneath it. The foot of the desk prevented her from pulling the board up so she was forced to work with a gap of a few meagre inches. There wasn’t much light from the overhead chandelier or from the lamp which stood shining on the desk, so she gently worked her hand through the space and rummaged around. As she did so she thought she heard a noise from over near the door. Gasping and with one hand wedged under the floor she looked up. There was no-one there but she noticed the door was now pushed to. She had left it wide open hadn’t she? Before she had time to think about it her hand brushed against something hard and smooth. She returned her energy and her focus, to the object and grasped it tightly. Slowly she lifted it out through the boards, scraping her knuckles against the rough edges of the wood, careful not to let it drop back in. As her hand reappeared from the floor with a few scratches and splinters, she saw she was holding a silver tin. Getting to her feet she laid it on the desk while she squeezed the rather painful splinters out of her skin. Sitting at the desk she lifted the lid of the old box, eager to see what was inside.

30

Inside the rusted tin was a reel of film, a key and a writing book. Lisa had no idea what was on the reel or what the key was to. Looking around the room she noticed a door she hadn’t seen when she first entered. Pushing on it she met with sturdy resistance. Inspecting the tall rectangular shape from top to bottom Lisa saw a tiny keyhole. Kneeling down and putting her eye to it she saw nothing. The room beyond the door was in total darkness. Retrieving the key from the desk she took it back to the door, her curiosity had peaked and she wanted desperately to find out what was behind the locked door in this hidden room. Fear was all but forgotten, replaced by a child-like eagerness as she let the anticipation of hunting around in a huge mansion like this take over. Inserting the key in the lock, she felt as if she was snooping and wasn’t sure whether to look inside or not. It was only when she remembered that the house was now her mums that she became consoled and only then did she turn the key. It turned smoothly in the lock and opened with a small, almost inaudible click. Lisa pushed the door wide and it moved with ease. The light switch in the room was a pull cord and with a slight yank the room lit up. She was standing in a very small room and Lisa assumed that it would have been at one time part of the large study that had sometime in the homes’ history been cordoned off. She thought it was unlikely that a house of this size would have just one small room in the original layout. In front of her was a big screen that looked like a cinema screen, only smaller. As she tried to open the door wider it banged against something behind it. Lisa stepped in the room and closed the door so she had a bit more space, so tiny was the room. Behind the door was an old fashioned reel projector with one single black leather chair positioned to the left of it. She knew this meant she could watch the film reel now and satisfy her curiosity. Rushing back through to the study she grabbed the reel from the desk. Back inside the small room she tampered with the machine to try and get it working. She was willing herself to hurry because she wanted to know what was on it. Why had it been hidden under the floorboards? Finally after what seemed like ages but was, in fact, only a couple of minutes the cantankerous old machine whirred and the screen came to life in black and white.

There on the large screen was an elegant looking woman dressed in a navy blue and white polka-dot dress with her pale blonde hair pulled back in a very drastically tight bun. She had a slight frame and wore petite glasses. She was strangely pretty, strange because she wasn’t what people would call a beauty, but there was certainly
something
about her. She had thin lips and a small, sharp nose. Her complexion was flawless; she had beautiful fair skin with no freckles or blemishes. Her eyes were the shape of almonds, just like Lisa’s and her mums. As she stared at the screen Lisa felt a striking familiarity about something she couldn’t quite put her finger on it until she looked away for a second and then looked back at the screen. Suddenly she knew what felt so familiar to her! She couldn’t believe she didn’t realise it at first, it was as clear as day! The woman on the screen was the spitting image of her mum. It must be Lisa’s grandmother. The woman was holding a tiny baby that Lisa hadn’t noticed at first, so transfixed on the stunning face before her. Her first thought was that it was her mum, but when she looked closely, the teddy bear in the crib held a name plate that said Robert.

Lisa understood the baby must have been her grandmother’s. Her mum had a brother.
But
how come mum never spoke of him and where is he now?
None of it made any sense. The film kept rolling, showing different stages of Robert’s life, his Christening, his first steps, his first Christmas. Her mum wasn’t in any of the scenes. Robert must be her older brother. Another thing Lisa didn’t understand was that her mum said her father was horrible to her as a child but she saw no evidence of this as she watched the film. It was the exact opposite in fact; her grandfather was filmed playing with Robert and reading to him. How could he love his son so dearly and hate his daughter so much? Lisa grew more and more angry watching the film. What was it that could have made her grandfather despise her mum? She was just a child. She didn’t deserve to be treated the way he treated her.

With enraging thoughts swirling through her mind, Lisa sat, stock still on the chair, staring at, but not seeing the screen. The film ended and the tape was flapping round and round on the machine making a repetitive clapping noise. Feeling confused and upset Lisa hung her head and saw the book from under the floor was on her knee. How did it get there? Had she brought it in with her? She couldn’t remember. Opening it to the first page she saw the same scrawl she had seen in the files on the shelves.

My little boy is gone! What am I to do? I do not know how to carry on. My Emily, my beautiful Emily has lost herself completely. She will not talk to me. She will not eat. I have no idea how to help her, how to ease her pain. I feel utterly useless. How can he be gone? How can there be a God if He lets things such as this happen? All these years I have worked, trying to help people who are in emotional or mental anguish. Now I am in the same situation and I know no-one can help me. I am broken. My heart is ripped apart. I feel like somebody else. I am hurting incredibly and I do not know how to handle it. I know I will never be happy again. Never!

Shocked at these raw, emotional words written in a heartbroken hand Lisa turned through the pages without reading. The book fell open on a photograph. It was of a tiny baby in a beautiful gown. The baby looked like it was sleeping peacefully until Lisa took in the flower laid on its chest. She closed the book and wept.

31

Downstairs Aiden was just beginning to come round from his fall. Slowly, still reeling from a sore head, things started coming back to him; everything started rushing back to him. He rose to his feet and on shaky legs walked into the dining room and headed straight for the drinks cabinet. Pouring a large vodka he didn’t care if anyone saw him. He was still feeling frightened, but his dread was partially quenched and it disappeared a little more with every sip of the warming vodka he drank. With the horror he had just been through he thought himself justified to have a drink and calm his nerves. He knew he should make a move to find his mum but he just couldn’t bring himself to look for her. He didn’t want to go anywhere except home - but he knew they would not be going home until they found their mum and even then they had a night to spend in this creepy place. Sighing, he knocked back the remainders of the clear pungent liquid with a grimace and a small belch that seemed to regurgitate some of the foul drink. He swallowed hard so as not to vomit at the bitter taste and with renewed confidence that came solely from the alcohol, he walked out into the hall. He was feeling a little light headed which was alright with him so long as he didn’t feel the terror and fear he had felt before. The vodka had taken care of that. It has also taken care of the cold that had gripped him from within. Now his belly felt warm and he had a pleasant sensation of his muscles relaxing. His nerves were still tingling from the adrenalin coursing through his veins, but the full terror he had felt only a few moments before had subsided enough for him to try and rationalise what happened. He just
knew
there had to be a reasonable explanation. Thinking about it now, he began to feel his legs starting to tremble under his weight and he wasn’t sure if they had the strength to hold him up. Leaning against the wall he gulped in a series of huge breaths. He just wanted to find his mum and have the three of them sat in the car driving home. His mum would be singing along to the radio - badly - like always, and he and Lisa would be teasing each other - like always. The wishful thinking made him smile. They still acted like kids when it came to car rides. He knew it was immature to tease his sister about a spot that had erupted on her face, or about the time when she was little and he made her cry because he had chased her with a spider, or about anything and everything really, but it was just too damn funny not to. There was the playful argument before every journey about who got to sit in the front seat. He wasn’t bothered if he did or not of course, and he knew Lisa wasn’t either. It had just become tradition now to have a bit of banter about it. Funny though how before they set off for here there was no teasing. They both just climbed in and resigned themselves to the journey.

He walked past the grandfather clock which was still ticking away, completely unaffected by the whole sorry affair they were in and he turned at the door to the lounge. He stood at the doorway and peered inside the room. Disappointment flooded him when he saw nothing. He retraced his steps back into the dining-room and poured himself another large vodka. He nursed it in his hands as he walked through the narrow corridor with tapestries which smelled like dust, hanging from the walls and made his way into the kitchen; she wasn’t in there either. Course she wasn’t. That would be too bloody easy wouldn’t it? He was starting to feel resentful that his mum was acting this way. If anyone was going to act irresponsibly then it should be him. He was the youngest after all. The baby of the family which he hated himself for thinking because he always tried to act like the man of the house. His mum knew how this house made them feel, yet the time they -
he
- really needed her she decided to have an ‘episode’. Yeah it was alright for some eh. Being able to deny what was going on. It wasn’t fair. More than anything he wanted to scream and shout and demand they go home but he couldn’t. He had to stay strong. He never realised he felt so bitter about being the man of the family. It had been thrust upon him. He guessed it was something he just grew up knowing he had to be without ever really thinking about what it meant. Why should he have to play that role? He was seventeen for god’s sake! He should be out doing what teenage boys his age do. His mates would be out playing footy now or maybe chilling at Macdonalds. With a disappointed shake of his head and a disgusted smirk he went back through to the dining room where he drank the rest of the liquor and slammed the glass on the table a little harder than he had intended. He remembered there was another room across from the dining room which he had passed before but had no intention of entering. He didn’t know what was in there and he wasn’t sure that he wanted to. He felt suddenly and irrationally envious that his grandfather sat here with all this money, not spending a penny of it, when they had to scrimp and save for anything they wanted. It wasn’t fair! They weren’t exactly poor, but they had to watch what they spent and their mum had worked hard all their lives when she would’ve much preferred to have been at home with them.

Aiden eyed the innocuous door, staring hard at it as though he would develop x-ray vision and be able to see what waited on the other side without having to open it. No such luck. He took a couple of steps over to the door that led from the hall. All at once it came like a rush of a tidal wave sweeping over his entire body. He had to steady himself with his hands on his bent knees. His head was reeling from the swiftness that the vodka had had on his senses.
This
he thought,
is why mum never lets me drink.
The irony wasn’t lost on him. The fact that his mum was dead set on him not drinking, yet it was because of her he had to have a drink. If only she hadn’t gone missing in this creepy dump of a house, he would never have had to go outside.