Ghosts from the Past Page 6

  Looking at the layout, it appeared that the books were in no particular order. However, the oldest of them seemed to be to the left of the second window, so I began there, taking my sticky notes with me, and began the process of sorting and cataloging.

  I had one color sticky notes for fiction and another for non-fiction, which would give me a very general sort of information. I was also noting what shelf each book was on so that when it came time to sort through them, I could easily find them again. Finally, I had to go through and mark what sort of condition each book was in.

  It was all detail work and very time consuming. I hadn’t felt as if I had been working long when I glanced up and out the window. Everything was cloudy. Rachel had been right about the fog. It made me wonder what else she might be right about.

  It was a thick fog that made me glad I wasn’t out driving in it. I wondered if the roads were as bad as this hill. There was little visibility and as the sun set, it would get worse. I was glad that this sort of thing didn’t happen often near me.

  I went back to working on my books.

  “There you are!” Maggie said coming in. I’d worked my way through three more shelves and was just getting started on the fourth. I’d taken to pulling down half a shelf of books and setting them on the desk and working my way through them and then replacing them. I’d found three books that appeared to be quite valuable, and a half dozen that, while having potential value, were in such poor condition that I’d have to search out how common they were. I was leaving that task to the end. I was hoping to work up in my room after dinner

  “Yes?” I asked.

  “We’ve found your phone. Bob found it in the kitchen. It’d been kicked under one of the counters.” Maggie held out the phone, the brightly familiar orange and purple clearly recognizable.

  “Thank you,” I said, feeling relief. That was quickly replaced by another fear. I couldn’t remember being in the kitchen with my purse. How could it have gotten that far without someone noticing it and picking it up? Which meant that someone had to have taken it and perhaps left it in the kitchen to be found.

  “I bet it just fell out of your purse when we were in there,” Maggie said. She was too cheerful in trying to find a logical reason.

  “I don’t recall that I had my purse there.”

  “Oh, but you did,” she assured me. She was trying too hard to convince me of something I remembered very differently.

  “Have there been other things going missing?” I asked.

  “Well, you know how it is in construction. A tool gets misplaced here or there,” she said cheerfully. “Your phone was the most concerning. I’m glad it’s been found.” She didn’t mention anyone else missing a phone. I wondered if she really had forgotten or if there were other secrets she was keeping.

  “Me, too,” I said. I tried to start it and it blinked on and then off again. It was enough to tell me the battery was dead. I was going to have to charge it back in the room before it would be of much use to me. Perhaps over the weekend I’d see if there was a place in Sydney that would take a look at it for me to make sure everything was fine.

  “Are you going to be here much longer?” Maggie asked.

  “I wanted to finish this shelf,” I said. I glanced at the clock on the computer. It wasn’t near dinner, at least not yet. I had plenty of time.

  “Just checking. Most of our workers left already because of the fog, so it’ll be quiet here.”

  “Of course, no one can do something to pop one of the fuses,” I said, wondering if that was the right terminology. I had always had homes with circuit breakers.

  Maggie nodded. “I’ll leave you to it.” She seemed like she wanted to say more. I was tempted to call her back.

  When she left, the room felt too quiet, too lonely. It was odd that while I had worked there alone, before she’d come in I hadn’t felt bothered. I’d been busy with the books and the work. Now, I was sitting there listening to every sound, practically jumping when the floor creaked or a window groaned.

  My mind wandered in a hundred different directions, and I kept looking at shadows that seemed to move out of the corner of my eye. I started to make a note three times and stopped each one because I thought I saw someone moving to my right, but no one was in the room with me.

  Something started to scratch at the wall behind me. My lunch rose in my throat. It was likely a rat and I do not like rats.

  Sitting there, trying to calm myself and hold down my food, I couldn’t decide if seeing a ghost or a rat would be worse. Without being aware of it, I had put down my pen and wrapped my arms around my chest. I still had half a shelf of books to go but I couldn’t make myself do anything else.

  I got up and grabbed my notes, leaving the room behind. I didn’t turn off the lights. They’d been on early in the morning. Quite honestly, I didn’t know where the switch was, and I didn’t care to go looking for it.

  Maggie, or someone who worked in the house, could turn them off. If not, the power would probably fail at some point and save the estate some money.

  I heard something fall upstairs. I considered going up, but there was a strange silence after the sound. I got very cold again, that iciness that seemed to come and go.

  I hurried around the corner and into the hallway that led back to the dining room. Sometime when I wasn’t so freaked out, I’d have to explore. No doubt the hallway on the second floor would lead around to the right and to the east wing, at least it seemed logical enough. Then I wouldn’t have to go through the dining room and up to my room.

  The large dining hall was empty. I heard Pat and Bob in the kitchens, their voices low as they murmured about cooking and who would chop the onion. Pots clattered against tile and wood. I smiled as I went through.

  Pat nodded at me. Bob raised a hand. Considering that it held a knife, it didn’t feel reassuring.

  I left their soft murmurings behind as I climbed the stairs to the second floor. Someone was playing piano music in their room. Bach, if I wasn’t mistaken. I wondered who was up there already.

  I opened the door to my room to see that Jimmy had left the second box in the corner. I glanced at the nightstand and there were my car keys. I closed the door with a soft click and hurried over to them. I put them back in my purse, which remained in its cubby. My wallet and everything else, down to a dollar bill that I had squirreled away in an emergency pocket, was there.

  I didn’t hear the piano music in my room. The walls had to be thick, then.

  Someone ran down the hallway, feet pounding. I stood up, wondering who was running and what was going on. The pounding feet came back down the hall and then someone banged on my door.

  I hurried over to see what was going on. I pulled open the door but there was no one in the hall.

  The sound of pounding steps was gone.

  No one else looked out their doors, although the piano music had stopped.

  I closed the door once more. I rested my back against it, wondering what was out there. The pounding feet came again.

  I considered looking out, but realized I was too frightened. My hands shook as I reached for the knob. Instead of twisting it open, I twisted the lock and backed away from the door, staring at it, willing it to stay closed.

  Chapter 10

  I had no idea how long I stood there. My legs were pressed against the end of the bed, my arms were folded across my chest. I listened as the pounding went back and forth along the hallway.

  I finally forced myself to do something in the room. Maybe if I ignored them, the sounds would go away or at least not bother me quite so much. I plugged my phone in and grabbed my computer so I could do some research.

  I settled onto the bed, piling up the pillows to make myself comfortable. I once again wished for a chair and spent a couple of moments mentally rearranging the room to make one fit. I wondered if Bethany would add one before she opened the retreat. Surely I wasn’t the only one to want a chair. The others had retired early last night as well.


  I hunched over my laptop and started searching out some information on a couple of books. I made a few notes on the cards I’d brought. I got lost in my research, coming up for air, so to speak, only when a door slammed.

  I realized then that the sound of running, pounding feet was gone. I looked at the time. It was almost six. I wasn’t late for dinner, but I needed to stop work and get going.

  I checked my sweater. I had my walkie-talkie. I hesitated before the door. I drew in a breath and tried to calm my pounding heart. A shaking hand reached out to turn the knob.

  It didn’t move.

  I felt a scream building in my throat. I pulled at the knob again, trying to make it turn. I looked more closely at it, wondering if I could find something in the room to fix it or if I’d need to call for assistance on the walkie-talkie.

  The lock was still engaged from when I’d turned it earlier. I breathed out, feeling silly.

  I unlocked the door, made sure I had my key, and left the room, feeling more than a little foolish. I was smiling as I walked down the hall to the stairs.

  Bob and Pat were busy in the kitchen, but Pat returned my smile. Everything smelled like roasted onions and garlic. I wondered what they’d served up that night.

  I crossed into the dining room. Nathan and Bethany were there, but no Jonathan or Rachel, not yet.

  “Evening, Lara,” Nathan said. “How’s it going?”

  “I got a start on things,” I said.

  We engaged in chitchat about cataloging books and the kinds of things I had seen on that one shelf, which was likely to be the most difficult of the sections to work on as the books there were oldest. I was also likely to find the most valuable books there, too. The boxes upstairs might contain something interesting as well, but those were far more likely to hold damaged books, having been packed away for so long.

  Jonathan joined us shortly before we were once again served salad, which we all took some. The dressing was different this time, still a vinaigrette but with a slightly different spice that I couldn’t identify. There was something slightly sweet in it, too.

  I ate heartily, my fears from earlier forgotten, and my stomach ready to take in whatever nourishment it could. Rachel arrived about halfway through the salad. This time she barely took any and ate quickly.

  “And how was your day?” Bethany asked her.

  Rachel sighed, as if this question was rude or she was being put upon by being forced to answer it.

  “I got Audra’s sitting room finished,” she said. “There was a lot of junk in there, let me tell you.”

  Bethany smiled a little. Neither she nor Nathan seemed all that excited.

  “Do you suppose you’ll be finished with her rooms by the end of the week?” Nathan asked.

  “I couldn’t say,” Rachel said. “All of this takes up time. I need to look at everything and make notes. Sometimes I need to do research. I can eyeball things, but if you’re looking for the kind of exacting inventory and evaluation you’ve talked about, I can’t just give you a guesstimate.”

  “All the same,” Nathan replied easily, “we’re hoping that you can do your best to speed up the process.”

  “Maybe if the lights worked a bit better, and I didn’t have to keep laying ghosts to rest, it’d be easier, but all that takes time. You’ll be glad of the extra time I’m taking to do that when you open this as an artists’ retreat,” Rachel said with a straight face. She really did believe in ghosts.

  I considered talking with her about my experiences, but that lasted perhaps half a second.

  I felt Nathan draw in a breath to say something when Jonathan broke in.

  “I’m not sure that the ghosts are real, and I’m pretty sure that the areas you say you’ve cleared have just as much trouble as the ones you haven’t,” he said easily.

  Rachel glared at him. “Maybe you’re the one who should pay attention to your job.”

  “Never mind,” Nathan said quickly, interrupting the two of them. Clearly they didn’t particularly like each other. I couldn’t exactly blame Jonathan. I didn’t much like Rachel either, and her claims of laying ghosts to rest seemed farfetched to say the least.

  Jimmy hurried through the room towards the far end of the table, giving us all a wave. I smiled and gave him a little wave back. The others nodded or waved. Rachel completely ignored him, still glaring at Nathan.

  Bethany changed the subject so that we were discussing the weather. I was happy to hear that there weren’t any storms in the forecast, which meant, I hoped, that the power would remain on for the evening. I didn’t want a repeat of the last night.

  After finishing the salads, we were served large dishes of spaghetti noodles and spaghetti sauce. There were meat balls as well. I noticed that Rachel didn’t have any problems taking plenty of meat to go with her meal this evening.

  Jonathan ate a lot of everything, taking three pieces of the garlic bread that was served last.

  I dug in, enjoying the food more than I had expected. The sauce was mild, the meatballs slightly spicy, and the garlic bread had just enough flavor to make everything perfect. I listened more than I spoke, hoping to learn something about the family. I wished they would start talking about the history of the place or perhaps Bethany’s family, but the subject didn’t come up. Nor was I offered any openings.

  Dessert was thin slices of carrot bread or else fruit. I would have preferred carrot cake, but if you’re not paying for the food, you probably didn’t get a choice. It seemed that Pat and Bob used their abilities to do the cooking rather than spending time baking.

  Nathan and Bethany left the table at the same time. That left me with Rachel and Jonathan, not a pair I wanted to spend too much time with. I listened in on Jimmy’s discussion with Maggie about how soon they could go back to working on the roof.

  None of the construction workers had eaten dinner with us this time, so the room felt nearly empty. The shadows seemed longer with so few people. I quickly finished my carrot bread and got up to go to my room.

  “I’ll go with you,” Jonathan said, standing.

  Rachel glared at him. “For someone who doesn’t believe in ghosts…”

  Jonathan didn’t even acknowledge what she said. He followed me out through the kitchen. Pat and Bob were wiping down the counters.

  “I hate it that she talks about ghosts and stuff. I mean, if I did believe, I wouldn’t want her messing with me after death.”

  “I don’t think you much like it before death,” I said, smiling.

  Jonathan chuckled a little at that. “You’re right. I just don’t think that she respects anyone or anything. I swear that kind of attitude is what gets people in trouble in horror movies, and I don’t care to be the first to be knocked off in the horror movie of Rachel’s life.”

  “Why would you be the first to go?” I asked.

  “Well, probably not the first. I’d probably be the second to the last. You know, the pragmatic gay friend who has all the answers, not that she’d listen.”

  I laughed out loud at that one. “Hopefully we’re not in a horror movie because I’m the one who’s already creeped out. I thought I heard someone running down the hallway earlier, but no one was there. I have no idea what caused it, but I’d rather not start talking about mysterious paranormal killers.”

  “I’ve not heard anything like that,” Jonathan said. “I got back to my room kind of late though, so maybe it happened before I was there.”

  “Maggie found my phone,” I said, changing the subject as we rounded the doorway into the hall. It looked dark down the corridor, though the lights were on. The walls seemed just a little too narrow for the length, and I didn’t really want to walk down the way.

  “I heard that already,” Jonathan said. “You have to realize, we’re a small group and all there is to do is gossip. I had a late tea with that lovely young woman who’s doing the cleaning and she told me.”

  “There’s tea?” I asked.

  Jonathan paus
ed at his door. “Oh, come on, now. It’s not real tea. I had coffee and a snack. But there’s stuff out during a typical British tea time, so that’s what I call it.”

  With that Jonathan gave me a nod and unlocked his door. I hurried to my own door, not caring to be left in the hallway alone. I didn’t want to see whatever was making the pounding noises along the hallway.

  I thought I heard piano music again but it was fainter than it had been in the afternoon. Perhaps Bethany or Nathan was listening to it, and they were worried about disturbing people in the evening. At any rate, I got my door open without incident.

  I locked myself in and started turning on lights. I made sure to have my lantern and the walkie-talkie when I went into the bathroom to shower and change. Tonight I would make sure I had everything on the nightstand before I turned in. I had a lot of research to do, both about the house and the books. I hoped I could get a lot of it done that evening.

  Chapter 11

  I worked for perhaps an hour without a problem. The internet was slow but not excruciating. I had some low music, a general instrumental that was soft and soothing, playing in the background. I had tried other music but the acoustics of the room made other things echo in strange patterns that knotted my stomach and made my body shiver.

  The sheets still smelled clean and slightly of my own personal scents, which told me that while the bed had been tidily made no one had changed out the sheets. There was still the faintest hint of mustiness that pervaded the house, though the chemical lavender smell did its best to push it away. What was it about old houses that made them hold on to their smells? It was like the wood or brick absorbed the scents along with memories.

  I’d been reading about the Manor rather than the family this time. I knew I should have been doing some research on the books I had questions on, but I wanted to know about the place. When had it been built and why?