This property was originally called Fallon House after the local village of Fallon. Built in 1763 for the Anglo-Irish Lord Fallon, it remained in the family until the death of the most recent Lady Fallon. Preserve the Past then acquired it and changed the name from Fallon House to The Guesthouse. Preserve the Past is a registered charity and all the proceeds from guest rentals go towards continued renovations.
Mo frowned. He flicked back and forth between pages. ‘Weird. I swear there was more here when I looked before, some fascinating background about the area.’ After a few seconds, he gave up and put down his phone. ‘Apparently some bits of the house are closed off to visitors, because they’re still being renovated. When there’s enough money, I guess. These things cost a fortune.’
Sandeep scrubbed harder at the Aga.
‘Well the outside’s a bit rundown, but it looks pretty good in here. The entrance hall is beautiful.’ Hannah smiled at Mo.
‘It’s incredible. Have you seen—’
One of the cupboard doors slammed shut with a bang. They both jumped and turned to look at Sandeep.
He flung down his cloth and stared at them, his eyes bright. ‘Stop it. Stop it.’ He coughed and put a hand to his mouth. ‘This place … it’s not right. There’s something about it … It isn’t safe.’ There was a stunned silence. ‘I know you think I’m an idiot, Mo, but you need to listen to me.’ He stabbed a finger at his son. ‘I’m leaving tomorrow, and you should too.’
Hannah blinked. She tried to think of something to say, as Sandeep paced back and forth across the kitchen. After a moment he pulled up a chair and sat down heavily. There was a pause before he began to speak, softly but with an intensity that kept Hannah rooted to her seat.
‘I’m not joking.’ He glanced between them. ‘There’s just … It’s a horrible building. It just feels all wrong somehow, dark and cold … I don’t know, like something bad happened here.’ His knuckles were white on the edge of the table.
‘Come on, Dad,’ Mo tried to smile. ‘It’s fine. No one has lived here for years. It’s been completely done up and—’
‘I don’t care! I don’t care what renovations have been done. I don’t care about its architecture. We should never have come.’
Chapter Four
Hannah stared at Mo as Sandeep stormed from the room and the door slammed behind him. Mo looked down at his phone, unable to meet her eye.
After a pause, she said, ‘Is he all right?’
Mo didn’t answer, and Hannah found herself glancing out of the kitchen window towards a small brick-built outhouse that crouched in the darkness under the trees. She swallowed.
When Mo finally spoke, his voice was croaky. ‘I’m sorry about him.’ He took off his glasses and rubbed them on his shirt. ‘He’s just tired after that long walk, and he hasn’t been sleeping. He’s got this cough and his doctor said he needs a rest, so I booked the holiday. Thought he’d love it.’ A little laugh. ‘He used to live in the area, you know. Came here from Pakistan, married Mum and they stayed for years. I was born near here too, lived in Ireland until I was fifteen.’
Hannah tried to smile. ‘That explains the accent.’
‘Yeah, I had a full-on Irish brogue when I arrived in London. Got bullied at school and managed to get rid of most of it. But I’ve never been as happy as I was when we lived here. Still feel Irish, I guess.’
He glanced at the closed door. ‘Since Mum’s death my dad has been really low. Hasn’t bothered about anything. I’ve been popping in to check his post and emails and I spotted this offer from Cloud BNB. Guessed he must have been thinking about visiting. So I decided to book it as a surprise.’
Then his smile faded. ‘It was a mistake to come. At first he refused, didn’t want to go to Ireland at all, but I kept on until he finally agreed. It was all going fine until we arrived and started walking down that bloody track. He was confused, kept saying we were going the wrong way. We carried on, him silent the whole time, and when he saw the house, he just lost it. Flipped out. Said this wasn’t The Guesthouse; it was all some kind of joke. They’d changed the name just to fool people.’
‘Does he know this place then?’
‘Apparently, but he wouldn’t talk about it. Wouldn’t say why he hates it so much. Just kept going on and on about its bad reputation, how it feels all wrong.’ Mo tried to smile.
Hannah thought about the figure at the window when she first arrived. They lapsed into silence and listened to the wind tapping against the kitchen window.
Something tickled at her ankle and she jerked away, her leg hitting the table with a bang. The grey cat stepped out from underneath and Hannah laughed nervously. ‘Stupid thing.’ But when she picked it up and tried to put it on her lap, the cat leapt down and went to lie by the Aga.
‘Knows its own mind,’ Mo said. ‘It was crying at the window when we came in here. I tried to open the back door.’ He gestured behind them. ‘But it’s locked and I couldn’t find a key. Had to let it in through the front.’
They lapsed into silence and watched the cat lick each of its back legs in turn.
Then there was a loud buzz and a click from the hall, and the front door swung open letting in a gust of wind.
‘I hope this is our host.’ Hannah pulled back her chair and they both stood. ‘He’s got some explaining to do.’
They walked into the hall and stood awkwardly by the stairs. But the figure who stepped through the door was nothing like the burly man from the website.
A stunning young woman walked in – tall, dressed all in black, her short hair almost white. A long strand hanging over one eye. Like Hannah, this girl had dark roots and streaks, but they were blue and purple: a fashion statement rather than laziness.
The new guest stood at the door looking at them. For a brief moment an expression of something like distress passed over her face, before it was replaced by an irritated frown.
She slung a rucksack onto the floor by the door and pulled off her black Doc Martens. Left them by the walking boots and wiped a muddy hand on her trousers.
‘Hi, I’m Lucy.’
Her fingers were covered in rings, her ears crowded with studs. A sapphire-coloured stone glittered on the side of her nose, highlighting her high cheekbones and huge blue eyes.
Mo seemed to recover himself and stepped forward. ‘I’m Mo and this is Hannah.’ His Irish twang came on stronger. ‘I’m here with my dad and Hannah’s on her own like you.’ Making sure Lucy knew they weren’t a couple, Hannah guessed. ‘We were having some coffee in the kitchen.’ They all headed through, sitting at the table again.
Lucy stretched out her long legs. ‘Bit of a walk, eh. I thought it was supposed to be near the village.’ She stood up and went to the fridge. Then looked in the freezer and opened a couple of cupboards. ‘No booze either. That’s a bummer.’
Hannah felt her spirits rise: someone she could get along with. She considered mentioning her vodka upstairs but thought better of it. ‘I’m going to walk to the village in the morning and find a shop.’
‘Good idea, I’ll come with you.’ Lucy smiled, but when the buzzer sounded again, she flashed an anxious glance at the door.
Raised voices drifted out from the hallway and, after a moment, three people entered the kitchen. A little family, bringing with them gusts of ice-cold air. The woman, arms crossed over her fancy white top, gave them a stony look. ‘I hope one of you is the host.’
Hannah sighed. ‘’Fraid not. There’s no sign of him. Looks like he’s avoiding us. The website did say it was self-check-in, though, so the host doesn’t have to be here. That’s why we have the electronic keypad—’
‘It’s ridiculous,’ the woman interrupted. ‘We’ve had to park miles away on the main road and stumble down a dirt track – in the dark – and with a child too.’
The teenage girl went red and turned away from them. The poor kid was probably around fourteen.
Her father gave them a warm smile. ‘Yes, well. I’m Liam and this is my wife, Rosa, and daughter, Chloe.’ His smile got bigger. ‘Excuse Rosa, it’s been a long walk.’
Rosa’s voice was still sharp. ‘And I don’t like the thought of our car out there in the middle of nowhere.’
‘Ours is too,’ Mo said. ‘They should be all right in a place like this. Not much crime around.’ He gestured to the Aga. ‘There’s coffee on the stove.’
‘None for us.’ Rosa looked at Chloe and Liam. ‘We should find our room and have a shower. Come on.’
But Liam stepped towards the Aga. ‘You go on. I could do with a hot drink.’
Rosa stared at him for a moment, then strode out, Chloe trailing after her. The girl glanced back at Lucy as she reached the door.
Liam poured himself some coffee and held up the pot. ‘Anyone else?’ Hannah and Mo shook their heads.
‘I’ll just have some juice, thanks.’ Lucy went to the fridge.
Hannah concentrated on her own mug but noticed Liam and Mo sneaking glances at Lucy.
Liam was tall and strong-looking with sandy hair thinning at the front. He had a warm Scottish lilt to match his warm smile. He sat at the end of the table, leaned back and took a gulp of coffee.
‘So, what brings you all here?’ His eyes flicked along Lucy’s legs.
Lucy raised her glass of orange juice and laughed. ‘You first, Liam.’
‘We don’t live far away, actually, but we’re in the middle of a house move and having some problems. Sold our place and bought a new-build. But the work has been delayed – it’s been a complete nightmare to be honest – so we’re marking time here. Rosa found this place and I negotiated us a deal. A pretty good one, too.’ He flashed a white-toothed smile at Lucy. ‘I don’t know how much you lot are paying, but apparently we can stay as long as we like.’
There was an awkward pause, then Lucy put her glass down on the worktop. ‘Moving house is always a bloody nightmare.’ She looked out the window. ‘I’m dying for a cigarette. Might head out for one in the garden.’
Hannah had given up a few years ago, but over the past few months the old craving had crept back into her life and now she felt its familiar stirring. ‘Can I steal one? I’ll get some more tomorrow.’
Lucy nodded, and they walked out the front door.
The rain had stopped and the dark starless sky stretched away towards the horizon. Still and black, darker than any night Hannah had known in England. Lucy flicked a switch by the front door and a dim lamp buzzed on, illuminating the grey cat as it snaked past them and ran along the patio into the night.
They sat on a big iron bench, and Lucy lit her cigarette. ‘How long you staying?’
She raised her lighter to the cigarette in Hannah’s lips and clicked, the flame flickering in Lucy’s eyes as Hannah sucked in a lungful of smoke. She tried not to cough. ‘Just a week. You?’
‘Maybe two,’ she laughed. ‘But I’m not so sure now.’
Hannah took another drag and laughed. ‘I’m sure Liam would like you to stay.’
Lucy grimaced. ‘Great, he’s just what I need.’
‘You did seem kind of surprised to find us all here, though. Were you expecting to be alone?’
Lucy turned to face her. She really was gorgeous. ‘Was it that obvious? I make music. Just broke up with my band and got an offer for a solo contract. I wanted somewhere quiet, you know, somewhere to write and think. Thought this place would be empty, that no one else would arrive until at least next week.’
‘You make music, cool.’ She might have known. ‘What kind of stuff?’
‘A mix of things to be honest. Punk, death metal, you know.’ Hannah nodded vaguely as Lucy continued, ‘I need to make my mark before I get past it. Twenty-five isn’t young in the music industry.’
So they were the same age. Hannah settled into sullen silence and continued smoking. Thought about everything Lucy had already accomplished, about what it must be like to stand on stage as a sea of people cheered your name. Then she pictured her own messy bedroom back in her mum’s house, her own messy life. She took a final drag and stabbed the fag out on the bench.
Mo and Liam had managed to make a meal, with Sandeep’s assistance. They’d used a huge frying pan to knock up what Mo called ‘a kind of ratatouille’. Everyone sat together at the kitchen table, but only Rosa was talking.
‘I just don’t understand why they didn’t mention the lack of road access.’ A wave of her fork for emphasis. ‘Needless to say, I’ve left a complaint on the website and sent our host several messages.’ She looked down at her dish and gave it a poke, as if noticing it for the first time. ‘This looks lovely, but isn’t there any meat in the fridge?’
Liam touched her other hand. ‘Mo and Sandeep are vegetarian, love.’
Rosa went to say something, but Lucy got there first. ‘Me too. There’s a big chorizo sausage in one of the cupboards, though. You could fry that up and add it in.’
Rosa smiled tightly and took a drink of water. ‘No, it’s fine. I’ll do something with meat tomorrow.’ Hannah had been trying to place her Scottish accent and realized it was just like Maggie Smith’s in that movie her mum was always watching, The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie. Posh Edinburgh.
Chloe gave Mo a shy smile. ‘I like it, thank you.’
During the meal Hannah stayed quiet. It seemed that they all, except Lucy, had some kind of connection to the area. Liam obviously loved the sound of his own voice, even more so than his wife. He told them all that he was a very successful GP who’d recently retired from a local practice and was moving back to Scotland with his family as soon as their house was ready.
Lucy wasn’t Irish, but she’d been living in Dublin. She’d been attracted by Preserve the Past website and its promise of comfortable historic houses in quiet locations.
‘But this was the only one I could afford. I also think self-check-in is a cool idea – it just makes sense. I mean, who actually wants to meet the host?’ When nobody responded, Lucy went on. ‘I’ve stayed in B&Bs before where they never leave you alone.’
Hannah couldn’t sit still. She picked at her food and her eyes kept returning to the drinks cupboard in the corner of the room that by rights should have contained wine, at least a few bottles of Henry Laughton’s expensive vintage stuff. Hannah’s hands felt clammy and her top kept sticking to her back. She wanted to open a window, but it was freezing outside. When Mo stood up and suggested cheese and biscuits or ice cream, Hannah made her excuses and went to leave the room without meeting anyone’s eye.
‘Chocolate ice cream for me. What about you, Chloe?’ Mo said.
‘She’ll have some fruit or a plain yogurt,’ Rosa replied.
Hannah slipped out the door. Wouldn’t fancy being Chloe and putting up with Rosa The Dictator for a mother. But by the time Hannah was halfway up the stairs, she was thinking of nothing but the vodka waiting in her room.
But something made her stop, a prickling along her spine like a feather touching skin. She turned and stared around the hallway, expecting to see someone watching her. But it was empty, just the strange paintings across one wall and the tapestry hanging beside the kitchen door.
Then a huge bang echoed around the space, and Hannah let out a gasp. She dropped to her knees.
Another crash, this time even louder, from somewhere in the house above her. Then silence.
Heart thumping, one hand on the bannister, Hannah stared up the stairs and waited for the ceiling to fall down on top of her.
Chapter Five
The kitchen door burst open and the others piled out into the hallway and peered up at her. She stood and turned to them.
‘What the fuck was that?’ Liam pressed his fingers to his mouth. ‘Sorry, no excuse for bad language. Sorry, Chloe.’
Rosa held her daughter closer, and Mo put a hand on his father’s arm. Only Lucy looked calm.
Mo ran up the stairs to Hannah and put his hand on her back, eyes concerned. ‘Are you all right?’
For a moment she was aware of how good his touch felt. Then she thought of Ben, thought of the random guy from the other night, the random guys on so many recent nights, and stepped away.
‘I’m OK. I think it came from upstairs.’
Mo looked down at the others. ‘I’ll check it out.’
Liam started up the stairs. ‘I’ll come with you. It’s probably a window crashing down. If the cords rot on these old sashes, they break in the wind. I opened a couple of dodgy ones in our room.’ He ran up past them, his eyes lingering on Hannah for a second too long.
Mo followed. ‘We should all be careful.’
Hannah waited on the stairs as her heart rate returned to normal. Liam entered the family room at the top and emerged moments later holding up a piece of white cord.
‘Yes, that’s it. I knew it. The damn thing’s broken: worn out.’ He grinned and headed back down the stairs. ‘I’m surprised they didn’t replace them all when they did the renovations. Maybe just missed that one. Anyway, be careful with them and we’ll let the host know.’
Sandeep’s voice cut through the hall. He had been silent for so long Hannah had almost forgotten he was there. ‘That didn’t sound like a window banging in the wind. It was too loud, and the wind isn’t even that strong. It could have been a problem with the roof. Something could come crashing through on us.’
Rosa looked up at the high ceiling with a frown, but Liam just laughed. He bounded down and put his arm around her. ‘Don’t worry about it. The roof’s completely sound – I had a good look around earlier.’
Hannah couldn’t remember him exploring the house, but she was too tired to care. Let him blow his own trumpet for a bit. She said nothing and carried on upstairs. The vodka was calling her.
When she got to her room she poured herself a large glass, topped it up with Coke, and swallowed it down with a sigh. She’d left her phone charging but the lead had come loose and was lying on the floor. When she plugged it in again she saw a reply from Henry Laughton.
Apologies about the road access. We had hoped to have a metalled approach lane installed before your arrival, but planning permission was delayed. I did message you about this a few weeks ago and a notice was added to the website. I hope it doesn’t interfere with your holiday too much.
I’m sorry I wasn’t there to greet you, but I’m held up at one of our other properties.
Regards Henry.
Hannah knew it was possible she had missed his message. She hadn’t been taking much notice of anything recently, except all the trolls on social media.
But surely one of the other guests would have seen the message. No doubt old Henry, in his fancy Barbour jacket, was chuckling to himself, assuming he’d get away with it. She couldn’t be bothered to reply; Rosa would probably give him an earful anyway.
Sitting on the bed she realized that for a short while today, surrounded by people who knew nothing about her, listening to the chatter over dinner, she hadn’t once thought about Ben. And as she took another sip of vodka, she tried to keep those dark memories at bay, tried to ignore the familiar pain beginning to settle around her heart.
A small chest of drawers with a kettle and an array of white china containers filled with posh teabags, instant coffee and chocolate stood by the corridor wall. She made herself a mug of chocolate, undressed and climbed into bed. Took a soothing sip of the drink, then added a slug of vodka and left the bottle on the bedside table, close to hand.
The bright lamp made her dry eyes throb. But when she switched it off, the images she dreaded began to swirl around her in the blackness.
She tossed and turned in the bed, clutching at her duvet, unable to stop herself from reliving the same dark memories. Thinking back to Ben’s funeral.
She remembered getting out of the cab on the side of the road and walking all alone towards the church through crowds of people. His friends and family turned to face her – whispering – then moved away.
She sat alone at the very back of the church as Ben’s family filed towards the coffin, his younger brother following behind with bloodshot eyes. He had always been friendly to her, and when he came to sit next to her after the service, she thought for one tiny moment that he was going to tell her it would be all right. That everyone knew she wasn’t to blame.
Instead he hissed, his voice low and bitter, ‘Mum and Dad asked me to say: don’t come to the grave or the house afterwards.’ He swallowed. ‘Just stay away from us.’
She sat there, alone in her seat, as the crowds filed out. Her head bowed, staring at the floor.
She must have drifted off to sleep then, because suddenly she knew she was dreaming. Thoughts of Ben and his family gradually vanished, but Hannah felt no relief – just a sense of absolute terror.
She was still in bed, the sound of her breathing low and steady in her ears. A curtain moved softly in the breeze from the window, fluttering gently across the floor. A floorboard creaked somewhere nearby and she knew with terrible certainty that she was no longer alone. There was someone else in here, in the room with her, watching her sleep.
A musky smell that she couldn’t place, a feeling of helplessness when she tried to sit up. She couldn’t move.
There was a rustling sound and a shadow stepped out from the darkness at the corner of the room. Silhouetted in the grey light that fell through the curtains, it shuffled and then stopped. Moved slowly closer to the bed. Hannah’s heart thudded louder, her palms clammy. Her neck throbbed, but still she couldn’t move.
The sickly-sweet smell was overpowering now. Somehow familiar, it crawled its way down her throat, choking her.
Another creak from a floorboard, closer now. The shadow loomed above her, but she couldn’t turn her head to face it, couldn’t even breathe. It was human, it must be, yet it seemed to slide like water over ice as it reached the edge of her bed. A cold chill settled in the room. She was shivering, yet her legs were blocks of stone anchored to the bed. Get up. Get out. She tried to scream, but there was only silence.
And then the dip and creak of the bed. The mattress sinking under a groaning weight as something pressed it down. Huge and dark, so close to her that she could almost feel it through the duvet. Almost imagine it reaching out to touch her.
She was suddenly wide awake, completely alert. Sitting upright in bed, drenched in sweat.
She gasped and threw off the damp duvet. Flicked on the light and scanned the empty room. Her heartbeat gradually slowed as she listened to the quiet house. Her throat was so dry, it ached. In the bathroom she gulped down a glass of water and filled it again. Stared at the pale face in the mirror. Her hand shook as she downed the second glass.
She checked that her door was still locked and the window secure, then poured a shot of vodka and drank it down. Drew the curtains, got back into bed and huddled under the duvet, shivering, just like in her dream. And it was just a dream, some stupid dream.
Nightmares were nothing new. She remembered waking up terrified beside Ben in the middle of the night, so scared she refused to go back to sleep again. Ben would gently hold her and whisper that it was all right and she was safe and everything was going to be OK. He would stroke her hair and kiss her neck and tell her she was safe, until she finally dozed off.
But this had been different: it had felt real.
She couldn’t sleep for hours. Her mind wouldn’t stop raking back over the dream, reliving it in vivid detail. The drip and the creak of the mattress, the feel of that heavy weight pressing down. And just when she had finally exhausted herself, when sleep reached out to claim her, she heard something else. A murmuring noise, somewhere nearby. Low and persistent.
She lay there listening in the pitch-black, until all she could hear were the small creaks of the old house, the gurgling of pipes, the call of an owl outside. She pulled the duvet up over her head. Had she been dreaming again? Tomorrow, she was going to lay off the alcohol; Lori was right, it was starting to mess with her head. How many days since she had last been sober? She rolled over and tried to sleep once more.
