Eleven New Ghost Stories (6 page)

I told them to… Fuck off! But of
course that only encouraged them: “What do you have to be like that
for? Here’s me trying to help, and you gotta start swearin’ at
me.”

His mates were laughing
idiotically: “Leave it mate, this lady’s not for you…”

Then the shopkeeper tried to
step in. He was Indian and he told them to leave me alone. They
said something to him I won’t repeat. After they told him to F-off
he came from behind the counter, and they knocked over a postcard
stand in front of him and ran out.

He apologised to me, not that it
was his fault. As I left the shop, they were outside, just across
the road. They shouted to me again; I just started to walk as fast
as I could to get away from them.

When I got back to the house,
pretty flustered, Jess was still asleep, thankfully. I put the
kettle on straight away and broke up the spaghetti for the pan.
Then, of course, there was another knock on the door. Still angry,
I didn’t waste time. I ran straight for it and pulled it open.

There was no one there, yet
again. Not in the mood for this stupidity, I ran down the steps
into the road and yelled, “Whoever’s doing this, it’s not funny!” I
looked up and down the road. No one answered, no one made
themselves known. All was quiet – again! I walked back up the
steps; stupidly I shouted “Do it again, and I’ll call the police,”
which was like giving them encouragement to do it all over
again.

And sure enough, before we’d
even finished dinner, there it was: another knock at the door. I
just ignored it; best thing to do, just ignore it. If it was anyone
important - which it shouldn’t be since I’d only just got there -
then they’d knock twice.

I didn’t sleep well that second
night. I was too rattled by the kids in the shop and by the knocks
on the door. It wasn’t boding well, this trip to Cornwall. The
place seemed nice, but so much trouble already. I tried to tell
myself it was just coincidence; that you couldn’t judge a place
completely just because you’d had a couple of bad experiences with
kids. Everyone else seemed nice – lovely in fact.

I was pretty moody the next day;
not only was I tired, but things seemed to be missing. My
toothbrush wasn’t there; I couldn’t find my towel. I asked Jessica
if she’d touched them and she said she hadn’t. She did sometimes
just pick things up and leave them somewhere else but I really
couldn’t see what fascination my toothbrush would have for her
now.

It was a bad time to start
feeling off as it was time to actually start doing some work. I got
up and had some eggs and soldiers and sneaked a cigarette outside.
I’d given them up, but once in a while, when I was feeling a bit
tense, they helped me relax a little bit.

I tried to keep it hidden from
Jess, but she suddenly came through the patio door. I threw it down
into a plant pot in a panic as she said: “Mummy there’s someone at
the door again.”

“Don’t worry sweetie. It’s no
one, just ignore it.”

“But what if it’s Daddy?”

I smiled: “Daddy’s still in
London sweetie. He won’t be here till the day after tomorrow.”

“Oh,” she said. “Well, I’m going
to see who it is.”

I picked up the cigarette
because Alan might spot it. He hates it when I smoke.

“There’s no one there
Mummy.”

“I know sweetheart, just ignore
it if anybody knocks.”

It was another nice day, shame
to spend it indoors going through cupboards, but I had to make a
start. Jess wanted, first though, to take a look in the pond for
some fish. Dad hadn’t mentioned whether there was anything living
in there or not, but it was so cloudy and murky we couldn’t tell
one way or another. Just as I was about to go back inside, I saw
Jess by the stone wall, jumping up to see if there was anyone in
the opposite garden.

I asked her what she was doing
and she said she was trying to see if the boy was still hiding. She
said that she’d seen a boy there yesterday but he kept hiding
behind the wall so she wouldn’t see him. I looked into the next
garden and there was no one there. There were no toys there; it
didn’t seem like they would have a kid, but who could tell?

I got to emptying out the
cupboards, starting with the one under the stairs, separating
everything into three piles: stuff to bin, stuff to give away and
stuff to keep – which was the smallest pile. It was a miserable day
to spend indoors; it was so lovely outside.

I’d brought Jess’ art and
painting things; that was usually a good way to keep her busy. That
would buy me a couple of hours at least. After that, I’d bought all
her cooking toys and those were her favourites so I knew they would
could keep her occupied. She has to have gotten her fascination
with food from Alan; she certainly hasn’t got it from me!

But it turned out it was me that
got bored and restless first. After a couple of hours, I decided to
take a walk up to the local charity shop. I loaded up a couple of
carrier bags with the ok stuff and walked up there with Jess, with
a promise of a cake from the bakery. The old ladies were as lovely
as you’d expect, and quickly got nosy about who I was and if I was
moving into the area. They then talked my socks off for about ten
minutes, while Jess got very annoyed and started to get very
grumpy. I seriously considered not buying her cake after all as
punishment.

I got them to give me a number
for a local charity that would do house collections, so it wasn’t a
trip in vain. We did get some cakes, after Jess was made to say
sorry, and then we went back to the house. And wouldn’t you know
it, not more than a few minutes after we’d arrived, there was a
knock at the door. I did start to think about calling the police,
this was bordering on harassment. I, of cause, decided to ignore
it.

We ate the cakes together but it
was soon back to work. I got back to sorting things out in the
kitchen – it really was the biggest hoard of junk you ever saw. I
was working into the afternoon. Jess fell asleep on her own,
without me having to put her up for a nap.

But then I couldn’t find my
phone, and that was something Jess might’ve picked up and put down
somewhere. I searched everywhere and couldn’t find it. I started to
get really wound up when there came another knock at the door.

I was in the hall way right next
to it when it happened, so I grabbed the latch and opened the door
fast, no time for them to run!

I swung it open and screamed in
their faces: “What the hell do you think you’re playing at!” But
instead of a group of kids, I frightened the living wits out of
this tiny old man, well-dressed and silver-haired – I think I
almost shouted him off the doorstep.

I apologised quickly and told
him that kids were constantly knocking on the door and that they
were driving me crazy. A little unnerved, he told me that he’d
spoken to the old ladies at the charity shop and they’d mentioned
me. He worked for a small charity that did pick-ups and he wanted
to give me some of the bags they used for collections. I could just
leave them on the front step and they’d get them.

God, I felt so guilty. I said
sorry about a hundred times but I could still see that I’d shaken
the poor man up. I took the bags and went back inside. What was
wrong with this place? I found my phone outside on the patio, how
on earth had it gotten there? Even if I’d taken it out, which I was
sure I hadn’t, I wouldn’t leave it on the floor. Jess could’ve done
it, but surely I’d have heard her if she’d gone outside.

And the knocking… I asked the
old man if he’d seen kids around and he said he hadn’t seen any. He
said it might be the students, but they seemed a bit above knock
down ginger to me. They had more exciting ways to create trouble –
at the tattoo and sex toy store for starters.

I had a missed call from Alan. I
thought about telling him about all the stuff that had gone on, but
he was so stressed with work. He didn’t really have time to talk,
he was just checking in. He asked me how I was liking the place. I
was a bit cagey, said it felt weird there, but struggled to explain
it. It didn’t seem like much – kids playing tricks, things going
missing – not when you spoke about it. Besides, I knew how keen he
was and I didn’t want to upset him. But I was starting to freak out
and was really not seriously considering moving in for the long
term.

We didn’t talk for very long. It
was late and Jessica had woken up. I turned on the oven to heat a
pizza I’d bought when, again, there was a knock at the door.

Was there really nothing else
for kids to do in this town! It wouldn’t be the old man again, I’d
well and truly scared him off.

“I’m not answering,” I said to
myself quietly. I’m going to ignore it, properly ignore it, not let
it get me all hot and bothered. The evening went slowly; I cooked
the pizzas and watched a Disney film with Jess before putting her
to bed properly. She swore blind that she hadn’t touched my phone
and I couldn’t bring myself to blame her, but who else could’ve
moved it?

I stayed up a little late, but I
was still on edge. I thought I heard another knock on the door, but
I wasn’t sure. I was getting all wound up about nothing. They’d
soon get tired of it. They’d soon leave me alone.

The next morning I planned to
drive over to Truro; I was desperate to get out of the house and
used it as an excuse to take away a few more bags of rubbish to the
charity shops. But it was a disastrous trip from the start; it was
a wet miserable day and traffic into town was terrible. I don’t
know why, some kind of accident was mentioned on the radio.

And Jess was a nuisance all day.
I found the car keys amongst her toys that morning after a long
search, so I knew she was the one who was picking up things and
moving them about. She denied it and we had an argument so she was
grumpy and moody all day and because I wasn’t expecting rain when I
packed neither of us had any proper wet-weather clothes.

We gave up on the trip and came
back just after lunch. As I was putting our clothes in the dryer,
there was another knock at the door.

“I’m not answering it!” I said
out aloud, and went back to drying my hair. Jess was getting
changed in her bedroom upstairs and I’d started to make us some
sandwiches.

There was a knock at the door
again. “Still not going to answer,” I said quietly. But this time
it doesn’t stop. They knocked again and again. And they didn’t stop
knocking; it went on and on and on. And it started to get louder,
and louder, and louder. They were pounding on the door – banging
their fists against it.

I screamed; I was so angry – I
wasn’t going to put up with this. I ran to the door; the pounding
still getting louder; I threw it open and yelled: “What the hell is
wrong with you!!!”

The second the door opened, the
knocking stopped. I was yelling at an empty street – there was
nobody there, nobody anywhere near!

I was breathing heavily.
Something was wrong, very wrong. How could they have gotten away so
quickly? The knocking had just stopped, in an instant – it wasn’t
possible.

I descended the steps and walked
into the street, looking up and down just to see if there was
anyone. But there was no one. How could they be doing this?

I suddenly felt very cold – I
was totally freaked out. The sky was grey and dark; it was gloomy
and deathly silent, not even a car on the road in the distance. It
was unbearably quiet, it was as if I was the only person within a
mile; it was like a ghost town.

I heard the door creak behind
me. I spun around and saw it suddenly slam shut. I almost jumped
out of my shoes in shock – I raced up the steps and tried to pull
it open. But the bolt had sprung and locked it from the inside.

“Hey,” I shouted, pounding on
the door, giving it a kick. It was locked firm and didn’t
budge.

Helpless, I started to shout to
Jess: “Jess! Jess, honey. Mummy’s outside.” I pounded on the door
with both hands: “Jessica, open the door”.

Then I heard screaming…

Terrifying shrieking, coming
from inside the house. It was Jess screaming – I would’ve known
that sound anywhere. She was frightened, petrified; screaming for
her life.

“Jessica,” I cried. I hit,
pushed and kicked the door. Tried to ram it with my shoulder, but
it didn’t budge an inch and caused me to slip and fall down the
steps. I landed on my side, grazing my leg and twisting my
ankle.

She was still screaming; I’d
never heard her make such a noise, not even when she was a baby. I
ran as best I could around the side of the house to get to the
garden. The gate door was on the latch and I couldn’t open it from
this side. Without thinking, I charged at it; ran right at it with
my shoulder, giving it everything I could.

The latch broke off as I hit it.
I tripped and fell, crashing to the ground in a shower of
splinters.

I’d hurt my shoulder and scraped
my palms, but I couldn’t stop – she was still going, still
screeching, shrieking, crying for help. I couldn’t stop; I got
right back on my feet and dashed around to the patio doors.

They were locked. I tried to
yank them open, but when I couldn’t I went straight to the rockery
and picked up the first heavy stone I could get my hands on. I
threw it through the door window. It shattered and I jumped
through, cutting my arm and shoulder on glass still hanging in the
frame.

The screaming had stopped. I ran
into the living room: “JESSICA!!!!” I shrieked. And then I heard
the sound of a toilet flushing. I rushed to the bottom of the
stairs, and she was there – up on the landing. She was rubbing her
tired eyes. I stood watching in shock – she was… fine.

“What was the noise, mummy?” she
said.

I ran up the stairs, hoisted her
up and held her so tight. God, I held her so tight. She was
oblivious; she had no idea what had happened. I held her tightly
for so long – the relief, I can’t even describe it. I thought I was
going to come in and find her dead, beaten, throttled or worse. But
she was ok, after all that, she was ok.