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THE OLD HOUSE
A Tale for Halloween
By Angie Christie
They were lost, completely
lost. It had seemed a good idea at the time, having a weekend away
during the final days of October. "I am sure we should have taken the
road before this one," wailed Annie as she noticed that Joe was driving
into a mist that was emanating off the fields. "This road does
not look like it is used much and the mist is getting thicker."
"Well, we can't go back, there is nowhere to turn round and if you
think I am going to damage this car, you have another thing coming,"
retorted Joe.
A few hours earlier, Annie and Joe had set off for this badly
needed weekend away. Both were bone weary after moving house they had
both loved on sight in a little village in Suffolk. The name had made
them laugh, and as Joe said, "Fancy telling people we now live in
Winklow! One will imagine all the villagers winking at you when you meet
them!"
They had noticed the little cottage snugly hidden away
down a little lane just off the main village street. It was very old, at
least three hundred years, and Annie had her wish, at last, to own a
cottage that had character and warmth. They felt the cottage had
welcomed them right from the start and when their price had been
accepted by the previous owner, they just knew they had done the right
thing. But, like all moves, it was a traumatic time, and so this is how
they found themselves on a strange misty road as dusk fell, looking for
the Inn that they had phoned for a booking for two nights, bed and
breakfast. Annie could not wait to arrive there, have a welcomed shower,
relax and also book a nice leisurely evening meal.
As Joe drove slowly through the mist, they both agreed a wrong turn
had been taken miles back. Time was dragging on and, by the clock on the
dashboard, they realized they were never going to find the Inn. Annie
felt like weeping as she realized that they had to find somewhere to put
up for the night and she was not impressed at the thought of sleeping in
the car. Joe felt dreadful. He knew they both needed this break and, due
to the mist and poor signposts, they had gone miles out of their way.
Suddenly, they realized the mist was clearing and they peered out of the
windows looking for any sign of life.
"Joe! What is that through the mist?"
Joe looked where Annie was pointing and saw that
there was a cottage just ahead. They might be able to ask directions
here. He drove the car off the road and they looked hard at the cottage.
There was a light showing. They could see from that that someone was
living there.
"Well," said Joe. "I will go and knock at the door." Both felt
uncomfortable as the cottage seemed to be the only one visible on this
stretch of road. Joe opened a wooden gate leading into a nice, well kept
garden. This made him feel a little better about knocking as, in his
mind, if people kept a nice garden, then they must have a tidy mind.
As he walked up to the porch door, he saw that the knocker was a
lion's head. As he knocked, he heard a sound from within. Suddenly, the
door opened and an elderly lady peered out at him. She was, Joe noticed,
dressed in very dated clothing. In a few seconds, he took in the fact
that she seemed as if she had walked through from the past. She peered
at Joe and in a very quiet voice asked him what he wanted. Joe noticed
she had a very sweet voice and it put him at ease.
"Look, I am so sorry to bother you, madam, but my wife and I seem
to have lost our way and you were the only cottage that we have found
down this road. The mist rose and suddenly we were in mist and we
realized the wrong road as well. We have just moved to the village of
Winklow so the countryside as yet is strange to us."
The old lady peered at Joe and said in her very quiet voice, "It is
late, you look tired. Please accept my hospitality for the night. Both
you and your wife will feel better in the morning. I have a room ready
upstairs."
Joe thanked the old lady and said he would take her up on her very
kind offer. He went out to the car, explained things to Annie and
collected their luggage. As they entered the cottage, Annie noticed that
nothing was new. It was as if the old lady had never bought anything
modern. A log fire burned happily in the fireplace and a kettle was
placed over the fire on a hook bubbling away merrily. Looking round,
they saw old fashioned photographs on a trestle table. Annie walked over
to them and realized they were all taken in the last century.
Suddenly, they realized that the lady had disappeared from the room
and they could smell cooking coming from the back of the cottage.
Walking through to the kitchen, Annie thanked the old lady for helping
them. "Twas nothing," she replied. "I will be glad of some company."
Annie noticed she had little boot button eyes that twinkled at her.
After a meal that was placed in front of them, they felt much
better. They had soup which they realized was homemade - vegetable. Then
they noticed that the lady had baked her own bread. It was a treat for
them both.
"Now I will show you your room," said the lady, "and you can make
yourselves comfortable. I have put some hot water in your room and
towels."
Climbing the quaint stairway, they were shown into their room.
There was, to their utter amazement, what looked like an old fashioned
feather bed and they saw that, indeed, there was a jug of hot water for
them and a bowl.
"Joe? This place is making me feel uneasy," Annie said.
"What sort of place is this? Who is the old woman? You notice she did
not tell us her name which was strange in itself."
"Oh, Annie, you are just tired and weary. A good night's sleep will
make you feel much better. I am just glad that she has taken us in. In
the morning we will ask her name and everything will seem different."
"Joe? Have you noticed that there is no bathroom and I was informed
by the lady that if we needed to go anywhere, it was out in the back
garden next to the old shed. Everything here is as if time has stood
still."
The bed felt very strange, but extremely comfortable and in no time
at all, Annie and Joe were sleeping peacefully. Suddenly, Annie woke.
What had woken her? Her eyes became accustomed to the dark and she was
too comfortable to turn up the little gaslight the lady had placed on
the bedside table. There, sitting on their bed was a black cat. Its eyes
were like emeralds and it just sat and stared at them. Annie was amazed
to see it as the door was firmly closed. How did the cat get into the
room? She nudged Joe and he grunted in his sleep.
"Joe. Joe, wake up please," Annie hissed.
"Wassthematter?" Joe grumbled.
"Joe, there is a black cat sitting on the bed looking at us. It has
not moved and I don't know how it got into the room as the door is
firmly closed."
Joe looked to where Annie pointed. "I can't see a cat. You must be
dreaming, Annie," he muttered.
"I can see the cat, Joe. It has not moved and is at the bottom of
the bed." Annie felt uncomfortable and as she stared hard at the cat, it
suddenly disappeared. She jumped out of bed, shivering with fright. What
sort of place had they found shelter in? Who was this old lady and how
did a black cat get into the bedroom only seen by her?
"Joe, I don't like this place. There is something not right about
it. Did you notice how the old lady behaved when we knocked? It was as
if she was prepared for us. Homemade soup, homemade warm bread, kettle
on chain over the fireplace. Far too much for one elderly lady to eat.
She knew we were coming, Joe. I am convinced of that. Also, why are all
the rooms so old fashioned, even the way she is dressed? And, I did see
clearly a black cat that entered a closed door which you did not see. I
am frightened, Joe."
Joe sighed. He understood what Annie was saying but how could she
see things he could not?
Placating Annie, he told her to get back into bed and
try to sleep. He was not going to show her that he too felt uneasy. It
would only make her worse and she needed her rest. He listened,
eventually, to Annie's breathing. Not a sound could be heard from the
cottage. No floorboards settling for the night, no sound from the old
lady. Silence. Only silence. This, in itself, was strange. All old
cottages had wooden floorboards that made some sort of settling down
noise. Not this one. Joe was mulling all this over in his mind till he
fell into a sound sleep.
Annie woke first in the morning to see the sun streaming through
the window. She got out of bed and looked out onto fields which had not
been visible the night before due to the mist and darkness. She decided
it was time to find the 'bathroom' and, putting on her slippers, she
opened the door quietly. No sign of the ghostly cat or, for that fact,
the old lady. "Hmmm, must be still sleeping," mused Annie. She found the
back door was open so went into the yard. It was never pleasant to use
an outside convenience, but this one was clean enough. She walked back
into the cottage, but there was no sign of life.
Joe was walking quietly down the stairs as she entered the kitchen
and Annie told him where the 'little room' was situated. He came back
and realized that a pan was bubbling on the stove. Such an old fashioned
stove, Joe mused. It was porridge. They were so hungry that they decided
to help themselves. It was delicious and if there was one thing about
the old lady, she could cook!
After breakfast, there was still no sign of their hostess which was
very strange. Annie decided to go and look for her and started upstairs.
She knocked on the other bedroom door, but there was no answer. She
turned the knob and walked quietly in so as not to disturb the lady. She
gasped. There was an empty room. Nothing in it whatsoever! Bare of any
furniture, bare of any sign that the lady was ever there.
"Joe?" she shouted. "Come here quickly!" Joe dashed up the stairs
and when she pointed to the empty room, he did not know what to say. If
they had one room, where did the old lady sleep? And, more to the point,
where did she disappear to? Annie dashed into their room and started
packing their things. She did not know what was happening and was very
frightened. How could porridge be ready, kettle boiled, yet no hostess?
They realized they were all alone in the cottage.
Packing their belongings into the car, they felt very bad about not
thanking the lady, but where was she? As they drove down the now sunny
road, they looked back at the cottage. Something made Joe stop the car.
He noticed that although there was a fire burning merrily in the
fireplace, there was no smoke coming out of the chimney. The whole place
looked deserted.
Debating whether to drive back there, they decided to
carry on. Suddenly, they came up to a crossroads and, to their dismay,
they realized they were right on top of the Inn after all. If they had
driven another mile, they would have found it.
Joe walked into the Inn and was greeted by a rather portly
gentleman who looked like he could be the landlord. Explaining what had
happened the night before, and apologizing for not finding the Inn, the
landlord look perplexed. "Where did you say the cottage was?"
Joe explained it was a mile down the road and then told the whole
story.
"But that is impossible," mine host exclaimed. "There has not been
a cottage there for over one hundred years. Oh, I was always told, and I
don't know if it's true, but an old lady owned it. She and her black
cat, so the legend goes, died in a fire there. The thatch caught fire
and she perished together with the cat. In fact, sir, down in the
village lives some of the old lady's descendants and if you go to the
post office cottage and see Mr. and Mrs. Jessop, they will tell you the
sad tale. The old lady was very sweet, so the story goes, and was the
g.g. grandmother of Mrs. Jessop's mother."
"But, we stayed there. We ate there. We spoke to the old lady."
"Well, sir," said the landlord, "Go and see Mrs. Jessop."
Joe and Annie signed the book for that night and drove down to the
village. They easily found the little Post Office cottage. Mrs. Jessop
was in the garden weeding. They both explained about their ordeal and
the cottage.
"Bless you, my dears," she said. "Tis true. My g.g.g. grandmother
lived there, but died in a terrible fire there with her cat. And, if my
memory serves me right, it happened on 31st October, exactly one hundred
years yesterday."
Joe and Annie did not know what to say to Mrs. Jessop. How do you
go and tell someone that they stayed in a cottage that had burnt down
one hundred years previously and also that they were taken in by
somebody who died so long ago?
On the Sunday after spending a wonderfully peaceful time at the
Inn, they said farewell to the genial landlord and drove back the way
they had come. No cottage was to be seen, but they stopped anyway. Annie
was shivering with fright just thinking about it. A few old bricks that
were charred they saw where the lovely little cottage had stood.
"I think," said Joe, "next Halloween we will stay at home in our
own little cottage and not venture out till 1st November."
Annie nodded. "Joe? Who will believe our story? I will never forget
that dear old lady and the black cat as long as I live!" |
