MAGDALENA'S GHOST: THE HAUNTING OF THE HOUSE IN GALLOWS LANE (4 page)

Anton felt too guilty to argue because he knew she was right. He couldn’t explain it, but the house was getting under his skin; he felt as if he belonged there – like coming home from a long voyage. He couldn’t give it up, he just couldn’t. He had to have it, no matter what it would take. He had no intention of backing down, because he had to do this for the two of them – it was destiny. He thought about it for a moment; could he really say in all honesty that he wouldn’t bother about it anymore if Lucy said no? He shrugged that thought off, as he didn’t want to face the truth.

“At least the toilet and shower block is open love.”

“Don’t you
love
me,” she exploded. “I don’t want to spend the rest of the day here and I certainly don’t want to spend a night in this dead dump.”

They both sat in silence for the next five minutes, each one waiting for the other to speak first. He knew Lucy would be in a real sulk for the rest of the week-end if he didn’t do anything about it.

“We could check if they have rooms at the inn?” he tried to jest.

“I don’t find that in the least bit funny,” she fumed. “And I had to hide my sandwiches behind a cushion.”

He hadn’t known that! He thought she’d eaten them quickly come to think of it. And what had happened to
his
sandwiches? He’d got so wrapped up in viewing the house that he’d forgotten all about them.

“Did you hide mine too?” he asked, looking straight into her face.

Lucy took one look at him and burst into fits of laughter. He looked so forlorn when he said it that she couldn’t stay mad at him any longer. They both cracked up together.

Anton wrapped his arms around her and gave her a big hug and a kiss.

“I’m sorry Luce. You’re right of course, you always are. I’ve been a selfish sod all day, ever since I saw Juniper House. But I haven’t meant to push you out, really I haven’t. It’s just that – well, I guess I just got so excited about it all. If you don’t want me to mention it again, I won’t – I promise.”

She looked at his pleading face and melted. “Oh, okay, we’ll stay the night and see what he has to say about the place when the pub opens.”

She knew she had relented against her better judgement, but she could see the day wearing on and they simply weren’t getting anywhere.

“Really – are you serious?” His face almost lit up the dark sky.

“Yes, but I’m going to rustle up something to eat first. I’ve packed a few tins of things and we’ve got eggs and bread. And I’m hungry!”

Anton grabbed her again and gave her a long loving kiss. “At least it will be intimate here we’ve got the whole place to ourselves. We can do anything we want.”

Lucy looked at him suspiciously and curled her lip. But she preferred not to make any comment on his dubious remarks – her look said it all.

“Right let me sort out some food, I’m ravenous.”

“Yeah me too, this house-hunting has made me work up an appetite.”

Lucy frowned as she disappeared into the back to conjure up something to eat. She sighed to herself. She strongly suspected, as well as feared, that this house was going to be theirs no matter what; so she may as well start getting used to the idea. She knew Anton well, once he got a bee in his bonnet there would be no turning back.

As Beryl approached the landing she stopped to get her breath back. The final suitcase had been deposited on the floor whilst she sat on the top step for a rest. Although she was in her sixties, she had acquired the demeanour of someone much older. The first sight of her mother, after all the years that had passed, was a shock. She had changed, that was true, but they would now pass for sisters, not mother and daughter, as the difference in their age was no longer apparent. Where her own hair was a stern grey, her mother’s was a gentle white which matched her personality as she remembered her. It wasn’t that her mother looked younger than her years; it was the fact that she herself looked much older than someone in her sixties.

Beryl had never married. Born a spinster, she would die a spinster, of that there was no doubt. Well it’s too late now, what’s the use of worrying. Her mother, Magdalena, had become a recluse, so what good had marriage done for her? It had only caused her pain and sorrow, as far as Beryl was concerned. She’d had two children, but her life came to an end when her husband – Beryl’s father – had left one day and taken her younger brother Billy with him. They were never seen again. He didn’t even have the nerve to face up to what he was planning.

It had all happened when Magdalena had taken Beryl to London to be auditioned by a renowned master-of-ballet. He had been one of the greatest dancers the world had ever known and many world-famous ballerinas had been trained by him. He was one of the most sought after ballet teachers in the world. Beryl had only ever shown the one talent – she could dance. And it was her dream to become a world-class ballerina. But the short visit which had been planned turned into a week, due to them visiting an ailing aunt. Beryl’s excitement at being told she had a special talent, was advanced for her years, and should start with the school as soon as possible, was beyond her wildest dreams.

But it all came to an abrupt end when they returned home. The house was grimly silent and Magdalena’s husband, Sinclair, and her son Billy had gone and their clothes and personal belongings cleared out. Magdalena was devastated, and Beryl’s dreams of becoming a dancer were gone forever.

Beryl blamed it all on Billy, whilst Magdalena blamed the loss of her son on Beryl; after all, if they’d never gone to London in the first place, none of it would have happened. Nothing was ever the same again and her dreams of being a ballerina were crushed.

From that day on Beryl and her mother grew apart. Magdalena adored Billy. He was the youngest of the two children and the apple of her eye. But he was also a musical genius; a gifted child who was being trained as a concert pianist. His playing was already concert material by the time he was two years old, and he would conduct his mother in time as she played. He was born a genius, and he was being studied carefully for a future career on the world stage. And although Beryl had been a talented dancer from a very young age, she didn’t compare to the favoured member of the family, Billy. His amazing talents not only excelled in music, but he began to show the same artistic flair as his mother too, which all added to the admiration and pride she felt for him as she nurtured his abilities.

Beryl however, had always dreamed of impressing her father, and whilst he had never shown great paternal instincts to any of his children, she knew she was more like her father than her mother, and therefore leaned more towards him rather than try to compete with Billy. She couldn’t wait to impress her father when they returned with the good news from London. But it wasn’t to be. Her father and brother were never seen again.

Magdalena never recovered from her son’s loss. He was only six years old when he was taken by his father and no-one ever knew their whereabouts, or what had happened to them. They were written off by the authorities eventually and no-one knew if they were dead or alive.

As for Beryl she was only ten years old and
her
loss was two-fold. Not only had she lost the only chance she had to become a dancer, she had also lost the one person who she could relate to – her father.

From then on life was intolerable and empty for Beryl. She watched her mother’s decline, as all interest in life was gone. She more or less had to fend for herself, as well as taking care of her mother for what it was worth. But she was unable to fix things as Magdalena was inconsolable. Seven years later Beryl left too, to seek her fortune in London. She simply packed a few things and walked out of the door and never came back. They were never in touch again.

Beryl had no conscience because she was her father’s daughter. She felt no remorse and didn’t have a problem putting her own interests before anyone else’s feelings. She never stopped to think about what would happen to her mother, she didn’t really care. Her own draw to London had a stronger place in her heart than any family interest. She had followed in her father’s footsteps and abandoned her mother by walking out of the family home without as much as a word. And she didn’t even bother to leave a note. She was convinced that her mother wouldn’t even notice she’d gone anyway – and too heartless to even care.

Now she was back and she intended to claim what was rightfully hers. She had heard through the grapevine that the house had been burgled so many times over the years that there was hardly anything left inside it. Apparently rumours were rife that the old woman ‘had lost it’ and wouldn’t have any idea if anyone slipped into the house. Now Beryl had returned she could see that the rumours were genuinely founded. The house didn’t resemble the once grand house she had left behind all those years ago. It had clearly suffered from the elements and neglect over those many years. And it was now hard to imagine her mother being the competent musician and pianist that she’d once been, as well as having taught Art and Sculpture. She had been a very talented sculptress and had held many exhibitions in London, her sculptures being widely sought all over the world.

Magdalena had been very beautiful, articulate and well-educated. She was sophisticated and refined, which made it more the pity that Beryl hadn’t followed in her footsteps; but she was too much like her wayward father. She silently recalled her tall, slim, debonair father with his trim black moustache and smooth short black hair. He could turn on the charm like the flick of a switch and women couldn’t resist him. Behind the cultured façade he was a callous rogue, squandering mother’s earnings on gambling and alcohol. He would disappear for days on end without any of them knowing where he was. Her mother tried to cover for him of course, knowing all along what he was, but she was a firm believer that if you make your bed you must lie in it. And so she continued to fund his extravagant lifestyle in the manner he enjoyed, for the purpose of shielding the children from the truth.

But Beryl always knew what he was up to – at least she’d always been sharp-witted enough for that. But Billy was much too young to know and he was too focused on his music anyway. He was just like mother with his ice-blue eyes and blonde hair, and he looked to be inheriting his mother’s good looks as well. But Beryl was not as fortunate in that respect. Her hair was a boring mousey-colour – often the result of having a mother with blonde hair and a father whose hair was black. She’d also had the misfortune of coming somewhere in between when the looks were handed out. She’d always felt that she was a misfit neither one thing or the other – and she was insanely jealous of perfect Billy. But jealousy breeds resentment and Beryl’s position was no exception – she even gloated on the fact that he was gone.

It had dawned on Beryl as the years passed, that her father had probably found another financially-secure woman of his choice, and had seen Billy as a meal-ticket for his own future. He’d probably thought that by stealing him away he would be guaranteed security in his later life, whilst he continued to live his rampant lifestyle with, no doubt, his new conquest. But although she herself had tried to locate him she had always come up against a dead end, until finally she gave up. And as she’d never been drawn to children, or to motherhood itself, she was unable to understand Magdalena’s emotions and devastation and therefore had been unable to offer any support, or kindness, that might have helped her on the road to recovery. And quite frankly, she’d never really cared either.

She dragged herself up off the step and wheeled the suitcases one by one across the long, bare landing. She glanced up at one particular door on the way past and noticed it no longer had a handle and the door itself had been sealed up. She automatically headed for her old bedroom. It hadn’t been altered at all, except the carpets and the furniture had all gone, but there was an old mattress on the floor which would be better than nothing .Walking back along the landing she noticed that the floorboards still creaked from one end to the other – nothing much had changed in that respect. She remembered how no-one could sneak past that particular area without everyone knowing. She felt no emotion at any of her childhood memories and no fondness. She had a plan in mind and she intended to carry it out, and there was no place in her heart for nostalgia.

Once her belongings were in the bedroom, she wandered back downstairs. She needed to sort out her cat and she knew mother wouldn’t like that as she’d always been allergic to them. As she walked into the sitting room, she glanced over to the grand piano which was still there in the same position as it had always been. It wouldn’t exactly be an easy item to steal, and its lack of use over the years was evident by the cloak of cobwebs strewn across it. Of course no-one could possibly take it without the necessary equipment to move such a weight, or at least being noticed in the attempt. So that’s probably why it still remained; but she doubted if mother had ever played since Billy had gone. There had also been a beautiful and rare antique musical clock which had always sat on top of the piano, but that was no longer there. A valuable and unique piece, it was elaborately decorated in black and gold, with two dials above the clock face giving a choice of settings. A cord drawn from the side would allow it to play a choice of music. But mother had it set at her favourite piece, which was the one that Billy had first learnt to play; a masterpiece which for a six-year-old was unheard of. She had listened to it constantly after Billy had disappeared, no doubt imagining him sitting at the piano playing for her. The haunting melody had almost driven Beryl mad. The thieves must have been canny to get that out of the place without mother knowing. She recalled how her mother had shut herself away, spending her days and nights in the rocking chair in the scullery, gazing into the fire and waiting for Billy to return. She had always believed that her husband would return with Billy once he ran out of money, and she never locked the front door just in case.

But they never came back.