Free Fourteen Days by Steven Jenkins Page B
Authors: Steven Jenkins
those—what do you call them, now? Black everything—clothes, hair, nails, everything.”
He thought for a moment, and then said, “Goths?”
“Yes, that’s right—Goths. Always playing that horrible music, too. Not my cup of tea. It’s just a lot of shouting and noise.”
Convinced that this Goth girl couldn’t be his ghost, he asked, “And what about Mr. and Mrs. Rees—do you know what happened to them?”
“Well, yes—they’re both dead.”
A sudden cold sensation washed over his body as he felt that the truth was about to surface. “And do you know what happened to them?” He braced himself.
“Well, Mr. Rees died about fifteen years ago. A heart attack if I’m not mistaken.”
“And Mrs. Rees?”
“Well, she died about four years ago, bless her soul.”
His heart almost stopped, feeling a mix of terror and excitement. Had he solved the mystery so soon? Did his so-called ghost now have a name, an identity? Captivated, he delved even deeper. “How did she die, Ilene?”
“I think it was just old age.”
He frowned in confusion. “Old age? How old was she then?”
“Oh, she must have been at least ninety. She died in a nursing home over in Bath.”
His entire body deflated. He had felt so close to the answer, and now he was back where he started. “Are you sure no one else has lived there? Even for just a few months. A lodger perhaps. Maybe a brown-haired woman—wearing a white dress?”
Smiling, she shook her head. “No, just those people. I’m sure of it. Why do you need to know so much? Is there a problem with the house?”
“No, it’s nothing.” He started to walk back over to his front door. “Thanks for the information, Ilene. You need anything, just give me a knock. I’m off work for a few days now so I’ll be in most of the time. All right?”
“Thank you, Richard.” She gave a small wave. “Give my love to Nicola, will you?”
“Will do. Thanks.”
He walked back into his house.
Maybe it was just some shampoo in my eyes , Richard thought as he sat on the foot of the staircase, staring at the front door. No, you didn’t have any shampoo in your bloody eyes.
Maybe I’m losing it then. No, there ’s nothing wrong with your mind .
He sighed. This has got to be real then. Or work. Maybe it’s my mind creating a problem to block out work-stress.
No. That’s stupid, Rich. The smoke alarm and the TV were real. Nicky heard them. And so was her talking in her sleep. It has to be real. There must be millions of reported ghost sightings in the world. It’s possible to have something living in my house. But who is she? She’s not Mrs. Rees. Can’t be her. Can spirits move from house to house, or do they have to have died there?
Question upon question plagued his already full mind. He remained on the lower steps of the staircase, pondering, until the front door opened, and in walked Nicky, holding two plastic bags. As he stood to greet her, relief flooded his body. He took the bags from her and placed them on the floor. “Something smells good, babe. What’s in these?”
“Take-out,” she said, “Chinese. Fancy it?”
Nodding, he leaned in to kiss her on the lips. “How was work today? Anything exciting happen?”
“Oh, you know: boring, long. The usual.” She walked into the living room and sat on the couch.
He followed close behind. “You hungry? Do you want me to serve the food now or save it for later?”
“Now please—I’m starved.” She kicked off her shoes and threw her feet up onto the couch, groaning in relief. As he started to leave the room, he picked up the food and carried it into the kitchen, then lifted it onto the counter. “We eating in there or at the kitchen table?” he shouted to her, glancing at the dreaded chair in repulsion.
“In here! Can’t be bothered to move now, I’m here for the day.”
Relieved and grinning, he pulled out two plates from the cupboard. “No problem. I’ll bring it in for you.”
Lying in
He thought for a moment, and then said, “Goths?”
“Yes, that’s right—Goths. Always playing that horrible music, too. Not my cup of tea. It’s just a lot of shouting and noise.”
Convinced that this Goth girl couldn’t be his ghost, he asked, “And what about Mr. and Mrs. Rees—do you know what happened to them?”
“Well, yes—they’re both dead.”
A sudden cold sensation washed over his body as he felt that the truth was about to surface. “And do you know what happened to them?” He braced himself.
“Well, Mr. Rees died about fifteen years ago. A heart attack if I’m not mistaken.”
“And Mrs. Rees?”
“Well, she died about four years ago, bless her soul.”
His heart almost stopped, feeling a mix of terror and excitement. Had he solved the mystery so soon? Did his so-called ghost now have a name, an identity? Captivated, he delved even deeper. “How did she die, Ilene?”
“I think it was just old age.”
He frowned in confusion. “Old age? How old was she then?”
“Oh, she must have been at least ninety. She died in a nursing home over in Bath.”
His entire body deflated. He had felt so close to the answer, and now he was back where he started. “Are you sure no one else has lived there? Even for just a few months. A lodger perhaps. Maybe a brown-haired woman—wearing a white dress?”
Smiling, she shook her head. “No, just those people. I’m sure of it. Why do you need to know so much? Is there a problem with the house?”
“No, it’s nothing.” He started to walk back over to his front door. “Thanks for the information, Ilene. You need anything, just give me a knock. I’m off work for a few days now so I’ll be in most of the time. All right?”
“Thank you, Richard.” She gave a small wave. “Give my love to Nicola, will you?”
“Will do. Thanks.”
He walked back into his house.
Maybe it was just some shampoo in my eyes , Richard thought as he sat on the foot of the staircase, staring at the front door. No, you didn’t have any shampoo in your bloody eyes.
Maybe I’m losing it then. No, there ’s nothing wrong with your mind .
He sighed. This has got to be real then. Or work. Maybe it’s my mind creating a problem to block out work-stress.
No. That’s stupid, Rich. The smoke alarm and the TV were real. Nicky heard them. And so was her talking in her sleep. It has to be real. There must be millions of reported ghost sightings in the world. It’s possible to have something living in my house. But who is she? She’s not Mrs. Rees. Can’t be her. Can spirits move from house to house, or do they have to have died there?
Question upon question plagued his already full mind. He remained on the lower steps of the staircase, pondering, until the front door opened, and in walked Nicky, holding two plastic bags. As he stood to greet her, relief flooded his body. He took the bags from her and placed them on the floor. “Something smells good, babe. What’s in these?”
“Take-out,” she said, “Chinese. Fancy it?”
Nodding, he leaned in to kiss her on the lips. “How was work today? Anything exciting happen?”
“Oh, you know: boring, long. The usual.” She walked into the living room and sat on the couch.
He followed close behind. “You hungry? Do you want me to serve the food now or save it for later?”
“Now please—I’m starved.” She kicked off her shoes and threw her feet up onto the couch, groaning in relief. As he started to leave the room, he picked up the food and carried it into the kitchen, then lifted it onto the counter. “We eating in there or at the kitchen table?” he shouted to her, glancing at the dreaded chair in repulsion.
“In here! Can’t be bothered to move now, I’m here for the day.”
Relieved and grinning, he pulled out two plates from the cupboard. “No problem. I’ll bring it in for you.”
Lying in