THE SPA - a ghost story.
In the spirit of Halloween I've put Chapter 18 of THE SPA up. The Spa is a ghost story. In chapter 18 Vicky goes in the haunted house for the first time. Her enounter with Rebecca, the ghost of the murdered woman, leaves her shaken to say the least.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Andrew was staying at a motel a couple of miles outside of Perrymount. He’d spend the day working with Vicky and Billy and when Billy left around six, he’d make dinner for Vicky and him. They’d eat then go for a walk or just sit quietly and enjoy the view. At eleven, he’d kiss Vicky on the forehead and leave. She’d go to Elizabeth Dooley’s, have a shower, go to bed, and unable to sleep, she’d lie there thinking about Andrew.
“Andrew,” she said one night as they were having coffee, “I want to go in the house.”
He looked out over the pines - a blanket of mist was settling on them, “I was hoping you’d get around to that. It’s the only way we’re going to get this ghost business cleared up. When do you want to go in?”
The tops of the pines poking through the mist looked like dozens of identical elves hats. “After I finish my coffee.” she said.
Andrew put his cup down, “I’m ready.” Vicky took her time finishing her coffee. “You can’t come in with me.” she said, looking at the empty cup rather than Andrew. She was pretty sure he wouldn’t accept that, and he didn’t. He gave her a-who-are-you-kidding look, “You don’t think I’ll let you go in there by yourself do you?”
“You can’t come in with me!” she said. She’d fixed her eyes on the elves’ hats and her jaw was firmly set. He stared at her determined profile, “You don’t believe in that curse!”
She didn’t take her eyes of the tops of the pines, “No. But I don’t believe in tempting fate either.”
“Suit yourself!” he said picking up his cup, “But if I don’t go in you’re not going in.”
Vicky chewed her lip. “Can we split the difference?” she asked after thinking about it.
“What do you mean?”
“I’ll leave the door opened.” she said, and this time she looked at him, “You stay outside at the bottom of the steps. If nothing happens I’ll have nothing to scream about. But if I scream…I’d like you to be close by.”
“No. I don’t like it!”
“Do it my way Andrew. Please.”
“Your way Vic!” he said sharply, “Is it always about doing it your way?”
Tears sprung up in her eyes as she quickly turned her attention to the blanket of mist. His rebuke was a painful reminder of the hurt she’d caused him.
Andrew drank his cold coffee in angry silence. As he thought about it though, he came to the conclusion that letting Vicky go in the house by herself might not be such a bad idea. The only thing in there that could scare the shit out of her was spiders, and saving her from a big, hairy spider would make him look like a hero and make her look like a fool, and it would serve her right! “All right.” he said, “We’ll do it your way.’
As a precaution Vicky put Fart in the tent and closed the flap. He followed her everywhere and she didn’t want him following her in the house. Andrew went to his van and got a flashlight, “Take this.” he said handing it to her, “It’ll be dark in there.” She lit it and they walked up to the steps together. “Remember.” he warned her, “One peep out of you and I’m in there.”
“I know.” she nodded.
She put her hand on the doorknob and held her breath, would it turn or would it jam the way it did the other night? She turned it and the door opened smoothly, it didn’t even squeak. She pushed it open but before she stepped inside she looked over her shoulder at Andrew and gave him a brave smile for her sake as well as his because by now butterflies were flapping around in her stomach. Treading softly over the threshold she flashed the light around taking in the grand entrance. It was a large space. Archways on either side opened up onto spacious rooms. A sweeping staircase hugged the left wall and the little alcove beneath the stairs was furnished with a sofa and a potted plant, dead of course. She flashed the light up the stairs to the balcony and she could make out the hallways leading off either side to the bedrooms. The dust in the house made her want to sneeze and she covered her nose quickly. She didn’t want Andrew rushing in just because she sneezed. After a couple of silent sneezes her nose settled down and she was able to look around without interruption. As she flashed the light in all the corners she saw layers of dust over everything but there was no trace of disturbance anywhere. The dust was perfectly smooth - nobody had been tempted to write their name in it. It was, as it had been for a hundred years, undisturbed by a cleaning woman’s hand or the scrawling of a name by a ghostly finger. As Vicky looked at the dust a shudder went through her! She was sure someone touched her shoulder but when she flashed the light around there was no one. Chewing her lip nervously she pointed the light up to the balcony. Shining it against the wall she moved it along until she came to the top of the stairs, perspiration glistened on her forehead - should she go up? Should she go to Rebecca’s bedroom, the place where she died, the room where she violated two men! No, not a good idea! Better to stay close to the front door. But how would Rebecca know she was in the house if she didn’t go looking for her? Do what you’d do if you were at a friend’s place she chided herself – call her! She tried to call but her mouth was so dry that nothing came out when she opened it. She licked her lips, “Rebecca.” It was a wasted attempt, her voice was too quiet. She tried again, “Rebecca.” This time her voice was a little louder even if it was trembling. She waited. Nothing! She swallowed but she had no saliva - she’d developed a case of the jitters! She had to calm down. Taking a deep breath she held it for the count of three then exhaled slowly. She took another deep breath, held it, let it out and gave a sigh of relief when she felt saliva in her mouth. “Rebecca.” she said, trying to sound like she was a friend or could be if she was given the chance, “My name’s Vicky. I bought the property and I’d, um, I’d, like to renovate the house, I mean your house! Well it’s mine now, but you…you live in it of course, so um, with your permission, I’d…you know, I’d like, I’d like to umm, ren…renovate!” Sweat trickled down the side of her face as she flashed the light up the stairs and along the balcony. “Rebec…” A cold wind swirled around her body as a feeling of deep sadness gripped her and a troubled voice cried, “Help Rebecca!”
“Andrew! Help!” Vicky staggered to the open door and fell into Andrew’s arms crying. Holding her tightly he ran across the veranda and down the stairs. The cold wind followed them grabbing at Vicky with its icy fingers. Running for all he was worth Andrew only stopping when he couldn’t feel the cold anymore. He was in the field, half-way between the house and the road, with Vicky still crying, in his arms. Holding her close, he carried her to a lawn chair and put her sitting, “I’m going to get you a glass of water.
Andrew’s face was grave as he watched Vicky sip the water. “Can you tell me what happened?” he said, kneeling in front of her with his hands on the arms of the chair.
She clasped her hands in her lap, “She touched me!” she said with a sense of awe, “And she was so cold and so lonely. Oh Andrew,” her voice broke, “she’s more unhappy than the most unhappy person alive!”
“Is she…still with you?” Andrew took her hands in his, they were freezing cold and he rubbed them, “Can you still feel her?” Vicky shook her head slowly then she looked at him with wide eyes, “Andrew!” she said urgently, “We’ve got to help her!” He searched her face, it was as earnest as a child’s. What could he say to her? What did she think they could to help an ubersad ghost? “How can we help her Vic?”
The corners of her mouth drooped sadly, “I don’t know.”
“Come on.” he said taking her by the hands and lifting her up, “I’m taking you back to the motel. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”
She didn’t argue with him. “Fart!” she called.
“I’ll get him.” Andrew opened the tent flap and Fart ran straight to Vicky. She picked him up and he whined, “Don’t cry.” she said cuddling him, “We’ll help the lady.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Andrew was staying at a motel a couple of miles outside of Perrymount. He’d spend the day working with Vicky and Billy and when Billy left around six, he’d make dinner for Vicky and him. They’d eat then go for a walk or just sit quietly and enjoy the view. At eleven, he’d kiss Vicky on the forehead and leave. She’d go to Elizabeth Dooley’s, have a shower, go to bed, and unable to sleep, she’d lie there thinking about Andrew.
“Andrew,” she said one night as they were having coffee, “I want to go in the house.”
He looked out over the pines - a blanket of mist was settling on them, “I was hoping you’d get around to that. It’s the only way we’re going to get this ghost business cleared up. When do you want to go in?”
The tops of the pines poking through the mist looked like dozens of identical elves hats. “After I finish my coffee.” she said.
Andrew put his cup down, “I’m ready.” Vicky took her time finishing her coffee. “You can’t come in with me.” she said, looking at the empty cup rather than Andrew. She was pretty sure he wouldn’t accept that, and he didn’t. He gave her a-who-are-you-kidding look, “You don’t think I’ll let you go in there by yourself do you?”
“You can’t come in with me!” she said. She’d fixed her eyes on the elves’ hats and her jaw was firmly set. He stared at her determined profile, “You don’t believe in that curse!”
She didn’t take her eyes of the tops of the pines, “No. But I don’t believe in tempting fate either.”
“Suit yourself!” he said picking up his cup, “But if I don’t go in you’re not going in.”
Vicky chewed her lip. “Can we split the difference?” she asked after thinking about it.
“What do you mean?”
“I’ll leave the door opened.” she said, and this time she looked at him, “You stay outside at the bottom of the steps. If nothing happens I’ll have nothing to scream about. But if I scream…I’d like you to be close by.”
“No. I don’t like it!”
“Do it my way Andrew. Please.”
“Your way Vic!” he said sharply, “Is it always about doing it your way?”
Tears sprung up in her eyes as she quickly turned her attention to the blanket of mist. His rebuke was a painful reminder of the hurt she’d caused him.
Andrew drank his cold coffee in angry silence. As he thought about it though, he came to the conclusion that letting Vicky go in the house by herself might not be such a bad idea. The only thing in there that could scare the shit out of her was spiders, and saving her from a big, hairy spider would make him look like a hero and make her look like a fool, and it would serve her right! “All right.” he said, “We’ll do it your way.’
As a precaution Vicky put Fart in the tent and closed the flap. He followed her everywhere and she didn’t want him following her in the house. Andrew went to his van and got a flashlight, “Take this.” he said handing it to her, “It’ll be dark in there.” She lit it and they walked up to the steps together. “Remember.” he warned her, “One peep out of you and I’m in there.”
“I know.” she nodded.
She put her hand on the doorknob and held her breath, would it turn or would it jam the way it did the other night? She turned it and the door opened smoothly, it didn’t even squeak. She pushed it open but before she stepped inside she looked over her shoulder at Andrew and gave him a brave smile for her sake as well as his because by now butterflies were flapping around in her stomach. Treading softly over the threshold she flashed the light around taking in the grand entrance. It was a large space. Archways on either side opened up onto spacious rooms. A sweeping staircase hugged the left wall and the little alcove beneath the stairs was furnished with a sofa and a potted plant, dead of course. She flashed the light up the stairs to the balcony and she could make out the hallways leading off either side to the bedrooms. The dust in the house made her want to sneeze and she covered her nose quickly. She didn’t want Andrew rushing in just because she sneezed. After a couple of silent sneezes her nose settled down and she was able to look around without interruption. As she flashed the light in all the corners she saw layers of dust over everything but there was no trace of disturbance anywhere. The dust was perfectly smooth - nobody had been tempted to write their name in it. It was, as it had been for a hundred years, undisturbed by a cleaning woman’s hand or the scrawling of a name by a ghostly finger. As Vicky looked at the dust a shudder went through her! She was sure someone touched her shoulder but when she flashed the light around there was no one. Chewing her lip nervously she pointed the light up to the balcony. Shining it against the wall she moved it along until she came to the top of the stairs, perspiration glistened on her forehead - should she go up? Should she go to Rebecca’s bedroom, the place where she died, the room where she violated two men! No, not a good idea! Better to stay close to the front door. But how would Rebecca know she was in the house if she didn’t go looking for her? Do what you’d do if you were at a friend’s place she chided herself – call her! She tried to call but her mouth was so dry that nothing came out when she opened it. She licked her lips, “Rebecca.” It was a wasted attempt, her voice was too quiet. She tried again, “Rebecca.” This time her voice was a little louder even if it was trembling. She waited. Nothing! She swallowed but she had no saliva - she’d developed a case of the jitters! She had to calm down. Taking a deep breath she held it for the count of three then exhaled slowly. She took another deep breath, held it, let it out and gave a sigh of relief when she felt saliva in her mouth. “Rebecca.” she said, trying to sound like she was a friend or could be if she was given the chance, “My name’s Vicky. I bought the property and I’d, um, I’d, like to renovate the house, I mean your house! Well it’s mine now, but you…you live in it of course, so um, with your permission, I’d…you know, I’d like, I’d like to umm, ren…renovate!” Sweat trickled down the side of her face as she flashed the light up the stairs and along the balcony. “Rebec…” A cold wind swirled around her body as a feeling of deep sadness gripped her and a troubled voice cried, “Help Rebecca!”
“Andrew! Help!” Vicky staggered to the open door and fell into Andrew’s arms crying. Holding her tightly he ran across the veranda and down the stairs. The cold wind followed them grabbing at Vicky with its icy fingers. Running for all he was worth Andrew only stopping when he couldn’t feel the cold anymore. He was in the field, half-way between the house and the road, with Vicky still crying, in his arms. Holding her close, he carried her to a lawn chair and put her sitting, “I’m going to get you a glass of water.
Andrew’s face was grave as he watched Vicky sip the water. “Can you tell me what happened?” he said, kneeling in front of her with his hands on the arms of the chair.
She clasped her hands in her lap, “She touched me!” she said with a sense of awe, “And she was so cold and so lonely. Oh Andrew,” her voice broke, “she’s more unhappy than the most unhappy person alive!”
“Is she…still with you?” Andrew took her hands in his, they were freezing cold and he rubbed them, “Can you still feel her?” Vicky shook her head slowly then she looked at him with wide eyes, “Andrew!” she said urgently, “We’ve got to help her!” He searched her face, it was as earnest as a child’s. What could he say to her? What did she think they could to help an ubersad ghost? “How can we help her Vic?”
The corners of her mouth drooped sadly, “I don’t know.”
“Come on.” he said taking her by the hands and lifting her up, “I’m taking you back to the motel. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”
She didn’t argue with him. “Fart!” she called.
“I’ll get him.” Andrew opened the tent flap and Fart ran straight to Vicky. She picked him up and he whined, “Don’t cry.” she said cuddling him, “We’ll help the lady.”
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