The Murder Mystery Party (Part 4)

I felt strong hands gripping mine and pulling them back. I tried to wiggle out but I was too confused by what had just been said to realise fully what was happening.

‘I am arresting you for the murder of Louisa Pitney,’ Chief Inspector Macklain declared.

I felt a bit of metal on both my wrists, I went to move and he had handcuffed me!

‘Wait!’ I shouted, ‘this isn’t right! I had nothing to do with it! This isn’t how the game was meant to go!’

‘We will have to lock her in her room, Chief Inspector,’ Kendell announced, ‘the storm is too bad for any of us to leave.’

‘And have a murderer under the same roof as us?’ Crispin yelled.

‘Do not worry, I have the only key to that room. She will not get out.’ Kendell cut in.

‘Let me go!’ I cried, ‘you’ve got this all wrong! I didn’t do anything!’

‘Come along now, Missy,’ Macklain spoke.

He started to drag me out of the room, I tried to kick him and anything else I could. I struggled hard against him moving me. Doctor Guilford and Kingsley came to assisted him and with three men dragging me off, I couldn’t fight the all them.

Still screaming my innocence, they half carried me half pulled me, upstairs and along all the corridors and staircases to my room. Kendell followed behind with a determined air. I tried to appeal to her but she wouldn’t listen.

At the door, the Chief Inspector released me from the handcuffs whilst Kingsley let my right leg go to open the door then they flung me inside like a sack of potatoes. I hit the floor hard in the darkness, bashing a knee and biting my lip. I flayed about then sitting turned to face the four of them standing in the doorway.

‘How could you?’ I cried, ‘that was too much!’

‘Not enough for a murderer like you,’ Macklain snapped.

‘I didn’t do it!’ I yelled.

Scrambling to my feet, I flew at them but hit the closed door instead. Macklain had slammed it shut before I could reach it. Hammering my hands and fists on the door, I screamed like a mad woman, repeating over and over for them to let me out and that I didn’t do it.

Sometime later, exhausted, I sank to the floor, my back to the door. My face was soaked with tears, my hands blooded. I curled up and tried to collect myself. It was all meant to be a fun game but it didn’t feel like it anymore, it felt too real to be anything else.

I wiped my hands and face on my dress, not caring anymore. Slowly, I got up in the dark, I felt my way around and turned on the lamps. My stuff was still on the bed, so I took it off. Then remembering the little bathroom, I went in there and cleaned myself up. I also took off my clothes and changed into the fleece pajamas I had brought. Whatever happened next, I’d had enough for one night.

I got into the bed but I couldn’t sleep, so I lay there my mind turning over things.

More time passed. I heard the sound of footsteps and whispering voices outside. A key was turned in a lock and a door creaked open. People moved into the room.

I turned my head to see and saw Doctor Guilford and Kendell coming to the side of the bed.

‘I’m not playing anymore, Kendell,’ I told her, ‘and if you’ve come to apologise to me I’m not accepting it.’

I made to roll over but my body was too stiff and tired to move.

I heard a clicking and glanced to see what it was. Kendell was holding an old fashioned black leather doctor’s bag and from it Guilford was pulling out a needle and small glass bottle of clear liquid.

Panic flood me, making my body jerk into action. I scrambled up the bed, my back hitting the headboard.

‘What are you going to do with that?’ I shouted.

‘It will help you sleep,’ Guilford said, as he drew the liquid into the needle.

‘No! You are not sticking that in me!’ I yelled.

I made to fling myself across the other side of the bed and towards the floor but before I could, with the expertise of a doctor use to patients running, Guilford had stabbed my arm with the needle.

I cried out and flopped down on the bed, breathing hard.

‘There, she will not be any trouble now,’ Guilford announced.

I sat up, stared at the tiny needle mark which was fast fading then looked at them both, ‘what was that? Why are you doing this?’

Guilford and Kendell didn’t answer, they turned away and out of the door once more. Locking it behind them.

I felt waves of sleep drifting over me. I settled down in the bed again, my eyes closing and unable to fight, I fell into a heavy sleep.

 

I was standing in the hallway by Jarrett and Louisa’s half open door. My hands were weighed down, handcuffs? No, a black metal bucket full of coal. I placed that on the floor and looked inside the room.

Louisa was at the dressing table, adding finishing touches to herself. She was currently trying to put on a pair of pear drop earrings. Jarrett was storming around the room, shouting at her and Louisa in turn would shout back at him.

‘How could you? I knew it was a mistake to come here!’ Jarrett yelled.

‘These are your friends, not mine,’ Louisa snapped back.

‘You always blame everything on me! Well, I am not the one having an affair, am I?’

‘Remember the Anderson’s summer garden party? You got blind drunk and kissed everyone! I had to drag you away before the police were called!’

‘I did not make love to anybody!’ Jarrett roared.

‘I would not describe it like that….’ Louisa responded, coldly.

Jarrett huffed about, ‘I should never have married you. I know you only did it for the money.’

Louisa turned to him, ‘and what are you going to do about it?’

Jarrett stopped moving, he was facing me, though he didn’t seem to see me. I saw his face change colour to a deep red, his cheeks and chest swelling. He flexed his hands, balled them into fists then opened his fingers into claws.

He spun and launched himself at her. Louisa screamed but was too slow to get away. Jarrett landed on top of her, his hands aiming for her throat but because she was sitting down he missed and they tumbled to the floor together.

They fought wildly, like mad cats, Louisa screaming loudly, trying to get away and Jarrett stopping her, grabbing at her. The room became chaos, items and furniture flying everywhere. Then Jarrett cornered her, his hands wrapped around her throat. Her hands beat at him but she didn’t have the strength.

I heard the breath catching in her throat, her last struggling and I saw how transfixed Jarrett was, the hate consuming him, his hands squeezing.

My fingers curled around the door, I wanted to burst in and stop him but I was frozen.

Louisa flopped in his grasp. Jarrett let her go and she sank to the floor. Jarrett stumbled back, looking at what he had done but no shock crossed his face. He walked around the floor, scattering more things then from somewhere, he took out a small knife and went back to Louisa. He slashed her wrists, dumped the knife and breathing hard came towards the door.

Grabbing up the bucket, I fled down the hallway and into an empty room at the end. I snapped the door shut behind me and press my back to it. I tried to stop my fast breathing, to be quiet, I prayed Jarrett hadn’t seen me, that he wouldn’t come for me next.

 

My eyes fluttered open, everything was out of focus and my mind was foggy. I tried to look at the ceiling but my head hurt too much. I shut my eyes and tried relaxing, I controlled my breathing, counting as I breathed in and out. I could feel my heart racing and there was an edge of panic in my body.

It took a long while for me to be calm. Opening my eyes, I saw the ceiling clearly above and as I listened I could hear nothing but myself.

Getting up, I all but crawled to the window, my body ached all over. Outside, it was a clear morning, the sky a winter grey and weak light battling the last of the night’s shadows around the castle.

I rubbed my neck and hobbled into the bathroom. Even though, I wasn’t a fan of baths, I took one. The water felt so hot and soothing, like nothing from the night before had actually happened. I lay in the tub, drifting and breathing in the cooling steam. When the water started to cool too much, I got out and wrapped in a towel, searched for some warm clothes to put on.

Once ready, I went to the bedroom door. Flashbacks from last night rolled through my mind. I took a deep breath, stepped up and tried the handle.

It turned and the door opened with no problems.

Confused, I walked out and looked around. The corridor was still and silent. Walking out, I didn’t focus on remembering the way, I just went. The castle seemed dead, time had stopped and I was like Sleeping Beauty, though now awake and wondering what had happened.

I made it to the grand staircase. Going down, I looked through all the rooms and found them similar to last night; most ready for a large party to take place. In the dinning room, the fruit, wine bottles and glasses were set up on the table untouched. In the kitchen, food was prepared to be served or re-heated. There was also sealed boxes of wine on the floor. In each fireplace, wood logs and coal were stacked up ready to be lit.

I got an odd feeling that something really wasn’t right here. I went back to the entrance way and stood looking around, feeling utterly baffled.

I heard noises from outside, a distant car engine? Voices and footsteps, someone laughing and heavy things being put down. Keys jingled then turned in the front door lock. The double doors opened.

A group of people were stood there, some held boxes. For a few moments their faces were happy and excited then they spotted me and their expressions changed to shock, worry and confusion.

‘Jane?’ Kendell’s voice asked.

She handed the box she was carrying to her someone else and stepped forward.

I looked at her, Kendell was wearing black jeans and a cream blouse. I tried to picture her in the white frilly dress and swan feather mask from the night before. It was hard to tell but she didn’t look as slim and her hair was a darker sliver.

‘Jane, what are you doing here?’ Kendell question.

‘I came last night,’ I replied in shaky voice.

‘Last night? but the party is today. How did you get in?’

‘You let me in,’ I answered.

Kendell glanced back at her husband, who shrugged then she turned to her other side and at a man who was holding a bunch of keys in his hand.

‘I wasn’t here,’ Kendell spoke, ‘are you feeling okay, Jane?’

I rocked back on my feet, my head swimming. I touched my hot forehead then twisting around, went and sat down heavily on the third step of the grand staircase.

Kendell came over. She sat on the step beside me and wrapped her arms around me. I hugged her tight, breathing in the fresh damp air and warmth off her body.

‘Tell me what happened,’ Kendell requested in a low voice.

I wiped my face, a few tears had fallen.

The group of people had abandoned their boxes and come over to us. Kendell’s husband sat down on my other side. With a quick glance I realised the other people were bar staff, waiters, kitchen staff and the man with the keys an owner of the castle.

‘It’s all right, Jane,’ Kendell said.

I took a shuddering breath, ‘I don’t know where to began. I’m not sure what happened now.’

‘Just try.’

‘Well, when I arrived there was a party going on and everyone was dressed in nineteen- twenty clothes and had masks on. Like your invite said,’ I began.

‘There was no party here last night,’ the owner interrupted me.

I stared in shock at him, ‘but there must have been! There were people here!’

He shook his head.

Kendell grabbed my hand, ‘go on,’ she uttered.

‘Then the murder happened!’ I continued, ‘and I thought the game had begun. But things went horrible wrong. I was accused of being the murderer! I got arrested and locked in my room, then a doctor injected me with something and I fell sleep. I had this dream, I think and I saw the real murder happen and who actually did it. Then I woke up and was walking around the castle but everything was like nothing happened.’

Kendell pressed her lips together and studied me hard.

Her husband patted my knee in sympathy.

There was a small cough and a teenage girl with dyed red hair, dressed in blue jeans and a red uniform t-shirt stepped forward.

‘There was a story my grandma told me,’ the girl in a soft voice said, ‘about an unsolved murder that happened in the castle in the twenties. It was on a stormy night, a day before new year’s eve, during a masqueraded party.’

I felt sick and faint, my vision began to swim.

‘Because the killer was never found, though the husband, I believe, was suspected, legend says that party haunts Toski Castle to this day still,’ the girl finished.

I tried to swallow the bubble in my throat. I still couldn’t think clearly. The silence pressed hard down, nobody daring to even breath and everyone watching me.

‘It was the husband,’ I whispered finally, ‘he killed his wife, Louisa.’

‘There wasn’t enough evidence against him, grandma said,’ the girl explained.

I looked down at my hands, they were shaking. What had happened last night? Had it been real? A dream? Had I really seen ghosts reacting an unsolved murder from the twenties?

I don’t know but even today I am still haunted by that night.

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The Murder Mystery Party (Part 3)

 

Jarrett’s voice faded but the word dead seem to echoed.

A man, wearing a simple black mask, pushed forward from the crowd, calling out, ‘I’m a doctor, let me through!’ He reached the first step of the grand staircase and turned to look back at us, ‘I am sure everything will be fine,’ he said calmly.

‘Fine!’ Jarrett shouted, ‘she is dead, I tell you, look!’

He ran downstairs, stopped four from the bottom and showed us all his blood stained hands. There was a shocked gasp from the crowd.

A woman cried out and fainted, far to my right, a few people caught her. Voices whispered, fading in and out. I didn’t catch what any of them were saying clearly. I could see the worry, disbelieve and shock on the faces nearest to me though. Everyone was acting really well!

A young man pushed through, he was wearing a green mask just around his eyes. He spoke out, ‘I shall assisted you, Doctor Guilford!’

‘Thank you, Kingsley,’ the Doctor said, with a nod.

‘Let me through,’ a man’s voice called from somewhere at the back, ‘I am Chief Inspector Macklain! What has happened here?’

He was dressed in a proper dinner suit, complete with white handkerchief in the top pocket. His mask was black but he had pulled it off to reveal a face a lot older then his years, he had seen a lot of police action. His hair was thin with too much worrying and he had a large drooping moustache that was going grey. His dark eyes roamed the party as if seeking out the murderer all ready.

‘Louisa is dead!’ Jarrett wailed and stumbled down a step.

‘It’s all right, old boy!’ Doctor Guilford spoke.

‘I will get to the bottom of this,’ Macklain added as he came to the front of the crowd.

‘Me too!’ Am Jarrett’s younger brother, Crispin,’ a teenage male called out from the side.

He walked over and joined Doctor Guilford, Kingsley and Macklain at the bottom of the stairs. I noticed he was dressed differently from the other men. He was wearing white trousers, a red and white pinstriped jacket, a red bow tie and a white shirt. He had blond hair and his mask was gold colored.

‘Oh, I want to help too!’ I cried, putting my hand in the air and doing a little jump.

People glanced at me then I moved forward.

‘What can you offer, madam? Are you a nurse?’ Doctor Guilford asked.

‘No, but I’m a mortician.’

A ripple of stiff laughter came from the crowd.

‘Okay, an assistant mortician, newly qualified, as some of you know,’ I added.

‘I am sure we will be fine without you,’ Macklain said.

‘No, I am helping!’

Pulling a childish face, I hitched up my dress and stomped over to the staircase. I went up, feeling everyone staring at me as if I had announced some great evil. Reaching Jarrett, I took him in. His half white half black mask was askew, his face flushed and his body shaking.

‘Led the way,’ I demanded.

Jarrett nodded and walked up the stairs, I followed and so did the men. At the top, I snatched up a sliver candelabra but found as Jarrett walked down the left corridor that electrical wall lights were on. Still, I felt the candelabra was giving me some kind of power, so I clutched on to it.

Walking by, I could see the storm was still raging outside. Rain coated the windows, the wind was howling like a wounded wolf, the thunder determined to make itself heard and the lightening strobe flashing. It felt like the perfect night for a horrible murder in a spooky castle miles away from anywhere else.

An excited but nervous chill came over me. What was going to happen next? Who would the murderer turn out to be?

Jarrett led us back to the hallway I had first met him on then off to the left, up a flight of stairs. We were all silent through this walk. At the top, he paused at the first door which was wide open.

‘I can not go in,’ he said, ‘I can not see her like that again.’

‘Stay here then,’ I said and handed him the candelabra.

Stepping into the room, I saw it was a total mess. Bedding was strewn everywhere as were clothes, books with were flung about, a few rip pages here and there, there was also glass on the floor and damp stains on the rugs. The overwhelming smell of lots of perfume hit me full in the face.

Where was the body?

I looked harder and saw on the other side of the four poster bed, the back of a limb hand, fingers curled inwards, raised up like a tried child trying to answer a question in class.

‘Do not touch anything,’ the voice of the Chief Inspector said from behind me.

I stepped to the side and let the men in. The Doctor and Kingsley walked carefully around the other side of the bed. They began speaking in low voices.

Being careful not to walk on everything, which was really hard, I joined them and stared down at Louisa.

She was laying at a strange angle, her upper body slummed against the bed frame. Her right hand was raised, blood trailing down her arm. The left arm was fallen at her side. Her eyes were open, fixed on some point ahead, a startled expression on her pale face. Her lower body was sprawled out across a scrunched up rug, her legs wide open and only one shoe on her foot. The other shoe, I spotted poking out from under a pillow.

She was wearing a dark green dress with a large bow at one side but it was blood spattered. Her blonde hair was loose about her face and the bed, there were flecks of blood on the strands. There was also a pool of blood around her left arm which when the Doctor held it up, I saw a slash across the wrist.

‘Doctor?’ Macklain asked.

I jumped a little, being so focused on the body I’d not even noticed the Chief Inspector moving to my side.

‘Her neck has been broken,’ Guilford answered, ‘her wrists cut as if to make it look like suicide. There is bruising around her throat, hand marks and also bruises to her arms.’

Macklain nodded.

I opened my mouth but the words didn’t come out. I wanted to say what a good actress Louisa was or was it a good life dummy? And also how great the murder scene had been set up but it felt all too real.

Sick rose in my stomach, I made a whispered, ‘excuse me,’ and walked out.

Standing in the hallway, I took a few deep breaths then noticed that Kendell had joined Crispin at Jarrett’s side against the wall.

‘Louisa?’ Kendell uttered.

I gave a quick shake of my head and turned away. My stomach was rolling over, ‘where’s the nearest bathroom?’

Kendell took my hand, led me down the steps, passed two closed doors then into a white bathroom.

I went to the sink, ran the tap and splashed water on my hands, arms and face. The cold water helped remove the nausea and shock. I also took a few handfuls of water to wet my dry mouth.

‘That was too real,’ I uttered, ‘she looked like a real body. I wasn’t expecting that. How did you do it?’

‘I…did not do anything,’ Kendell said stiffly, her voice still muffled by the feather mask.

I turned to her, water dripping off my face. She handed me a white towel which I used.

‘Who do you think murdered her?’ I asked, ‘wait, I’m not allowed to ask you because you probably know,’ I laughed.

Kendell looked hard at me.

‘Unless you don’t either, because you hired the actors?’

‘Actors?’ Kendell questioned, ‘there are no actors here.’

A loud knock at the door interrupted us. Kendell flung it back and the Chief Inspector was standing there.

‘I am sorry to intrude, but I need to question everyone. Please come to the dinning room now,’ he said.

‘Of course,’ Kendell answered.

Macklain turned away and she followed him. I dropped the towel on the hand rail and trailed after them. We went back the way we had come, finally down the grand staircase and into the dinning room, where I had gotten my glass of wine before. It was now gone from the table I noticed.

‘Please be seated,’ Macklain spoke.

Kendell sat down at the head of the table. I took the only other empty chair to her left. Beside me was Jarrett with his mask off, looking extreme pale and upset. He was also handsome, but now was not the time. Next to him, his brother and the rest of the chairs were filled out with other guests, all still had their masks on.

There were a few men standing around, looking at different things in the room as if they found a great interest in them. I noticed how they avoided looking at anyone else.

‘What is your name, Miss?’ Macklain questioned.

I looked at him, realised he was addressing me and replied, ‘Jane Walker.’

‘Mr Pitney says he found you wondering the hallways before his wife’s death, is that true?’

I thought for a few moments then said, ‘yes, I was lost trying to find my way down to the party.’

‘What time would this have been?’ Chief Inspector Macklain asked.

I pressed my lips together and tried to remember what my phone screen had said. The numbers wouldn’t come to me.

‘Do you recall at all?’ Macklain pressed.

‘Well, it was after seven when I arrived, I remember seeing that on my car’s clock but then when I came down to the ballroom, I heard it was almost nine. I didn’t think that much time had passed though!’

‘Yes, it was almost nine, Chief Inspector, when Miss Walker joined me,’ Kendell spoke stiffly, ‘ I can not tell you want time she arrived at.’

‘And you, Mr Pitney, what time do you think it was when you meet Miss Walker in the hallway?’ Macklain questioned.

‘It was around half past eight,’ Jarrett said gently.

Macklain rounded on me again, ‘do you remember hearing anything at that time, Miss Walker?’

I wiggled in my seat, feeling the pressure of all this questions. I didn’t realise this was going to be so intense! It was meant to be a game after all!

‘Let’s see,’ I spoke, ‘I remember hearing shouting, an argument, maybe? I followed the voices then I heard a door slam.’

‘What was the shouting about?’ Macklain shot at me.

‘I never heard any clear words.’

‘Did you see Mrs Pitney?’

‘No.’

‘Then what happened when you met Mr Pitney in the hallway?’ Macklain inquired.

‘I told him I was lost and asked if he could help me find the party. He did so,’ I answered.

‘Did you seem him again afterwards?’

‘No. He went back upstairs. I was with Kendell the whole time then, until I heard screaming and I joined everyone with going to the entrance hall,’ I explained.

Macklain paced away from me, went behind Kendell’s chair then came back again and went behind Jarrett and said in a low voice, ‘where did you go, Mr Pitney?’

‘Back to my bedroom,’ he answered, ‘I wanted to apologise to…to Louisa….’ he took a deep breathe then carried on, ‘when I got to the room, the door was open and she was…dead!’

‘What had you been arguing about, sir?’

‘Nothing! It was nothing!’ Jarrett shouted and slammed a fist into the table.

We all jumped.

‘Quiet, brother. Be calm,’ Crispin spoke and laid his hand on top of Jarrett’s fist.

Jarrett stared at me, hate in his eyes.

‘It was you,’ he hissed.

‘Me?’ I questioned, putting a hand to my chest.

‘You were jealous I was married!’

‘What? I don’t even know you!’ I responded then laughed nervously.

‘She would have had the time to go back,’ Kendell declared, ‘it would have only taken a few minutes!’

‘I? Kendell! What are saying? I had nothing to do with it!’ I cried.

‘It would have been easy for you, especially as no one knows who you are!’ Kendell exclaimed.

My next words died on my lips. I looked around the room with wild eyes.

‘What do you mean, Lady Whitwood?’ Macklain inquired.

I frowned. Lady Whitwood? Kendell’s last name was Steveson. Had she given herself a character name for the murder mystery game? Perhaps, everyone else had done to and that’s the other reason why I didn’t recognise anyone.

Kendell took a deep breath and accusingly said, ‘Miss Walker is a stranger amongst us! I did not know her when she came to the door, though she was dressed for the party. When I made inquires after her no one admitted they knew her.’

I froze, not sure what to reply to defend myself with, nor where any of this was going. I had a strange feeling that the murder mystery game had gone wrong somehow.

‘I know who she is!’ Jarrett shouted, ‘my childhood sweetheart! She followed me here, tricked her way into the party and murder my poor wife!’

Scrambling to my feet, I stood up and screamed, ‘that’s not true!’

Jarrett and Crispin also got to their feet.

‘She does sort of look like your old sweetheart,’ Crispin added, thoughtfully.

‘She is Jane Duneshaw! Arrest her, Chief Inspector! She is the murderess!’

‘No!’ I cried.

To be continued….

The Murder Mystery Party (Part 2)

I walked into the bedroom, the light from the candelabra didn’t show me a lot. I looked for a light switch on the wall but couldn’t find one. I turned on two lamps either side of the double, four poster, red velvet curtain bed and another lamp over a little writing desk. There were other candles dotted around which I decided to light.

With that, I could see the medium size room; the bed with side tables and bedding box at the end against one wall, an empty fireplace and a small door in the wall opposite. On the left wall where the door was, stood a small oak wardrobe in the corner. On the last wall, a small window and the writing desk. The wallpaper was old fashioned flowers on a cream background and the floor was covered by four or five dark rugs.

I dumped my stuff, took off the masquerade mask and went to the little door. Opening it, I walked in and found a tiny bathroom. There was a sink with a mirror above it, toilet and a small bath. It would do for two or three nights. I wasn’t a fan of baths though so maybe I could find a bigger bathroom with a shower in it to use?

Going back into the bedroom, I started unpacking and noticed how quiet it seemed. I could hear some of the candle wicks crackling as they started burning, the wind and the rain rattling the window and myself moving stuff but I couldn’t hear the sounds of the party. Not thinking about how I was going to find my way back down the grand staircase, I got what I needed out and set the rest aside.

I looked at my phone and saw I had no signal, not even enough for an emergency call to be made. I put the phone in the small blue beaded bag I’d brought with me. I could look for signal if I needed it later, but I knew in castles it was unlikely, all that thick stone blocked out things.

Taking of my wet dress, I went to the wardrobe. Opening the door caused the wooden hangers to rattle. I grabbed one, hung my dress up then searched for a plug socket for my hair drier. I found one next to the bedside table, though I had to unplug the lamp. Switching the hair drier on, I give my hair a quick dry, I had been to the hairdressers that morning for a twenties bob style and didn’t want to mess around with it. Then I dried my dress.

Halfway through the hair drier cut out. Frowning, I checked the plug and it was still work. I shook the hair drier and spent a few minutes trying to get it back on but it was dead. Giving up, I tossed it on the bed and slipped the dress back on. Over the top, I put a paler blue cardigan on. I re-did my makeup, placed a few other things inside the bead bag, put the mask back on and was ready to go.

A rumble of thunder caused me to pause. I looked over at the window, there was only darkness and rain splatter.

‘A thunder storm?’ I spoke aloud, ‘that wasn’t forecast.’

As if in answer, a flash of lightening struck and the thunder rumbled again. I shivered and opened the bedroom door. It was pitch black and I couldn’t see. Tutting, I turned back and picked up the gold candelabra Kendell had given me. Then realising I couldn’t leave the other candles lit, I blew them out and turned off the lamps too.

Just by the glow of three candles, I began to make my way along dark corridors. The storm came into full force as I walked. I could the wind howling, making things creak and groan in the castle, rain hit the windows causing them to shake and every few minutes the thunder would rumble like the hungry stomach of a giant followed by a flash of white lightening.

Fear spiked me, vanishing all other emotions and thoughts. I tried not to think of horror movies, supernatural things and anything unsettling. I concentrated on trying to remember the way Kendell had brought me. Was it left here or right? Down or up this staircase? Passed the painting of rearing white horse or not?

I heard shouting voices and stopped. I spun about, trying to decided where they were coming from but everything echoed in the castle. A door slammed, I jumped and cried out, the noise had been so loud it must be close by!

A figure appeared, stomping down a staircase. I couldn’t see much and scared, I tried to tug myself into a doorway.

‘Who’s there?’ a man’s voice called.

I peered out at him but still could only make out his outline. He moved forward and I almost made a dash back the way I had come.

‘I’m sorry,’ he spoke softer this time, ‘I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m Jarrett Pitney.’

‘Jane Walker,’ I breathed.

I stepped away from the wall and held the candelabra up. I could see him better now. He was tall man around six foot, with short black hair waxed back, the mask he wore was half black half white and came down over his cheeks, he had blue eyes and full pink, wet lips. He was wearing a black dinner suit with a white shirt, bib and black bow tie.

‘Are you lost, Miss Walker?’ he asked in a hushed voice.

‘I’m afraid so. Could you help me find the party?’

He nodded and held out his arm. I took it and without another word, he led me the correct way. A few minutes later, we were at the top of the grand staircase, the painted horses and men of the Napoleonic battle scene staring down at us.

‘You should be all right now,’ he said and dropped his arm from mine.

‘Thank you,’ I replied.

He turned and walked back the way we had come, the darkness swallowed him. I wondered how he knew the way without any light. Maybe, he knew the castle well? The sounds of music and voices drifted up to me.

I walked down the staircase and found that some of the doors leading off from the entrance hall where now open. Light was pooling everywhere and I could smell warm food and burning wood.

Putting the candelabra down on a table, I walked to the first open door and found an empty parlor. There was fire burning happily in the fireplace in the opposite wall, plush armchairs and two seater sofas were scattered about waiting to be used. I tried the next room and found six chairs around a circular table that was set up for afternoon tea. Another fireplace was light, on both sides of which where bookcases and portraits on the walls.

Stepping out, I followed the distance voices towards the back, behind the grand staircase. There I walked through double doors and found myself in a ballroom. A handful of people were walking about, only two couples were dancing and there was a small orchestrate on a stage in the far corner. The air smelt of fire smoke, winter spice and flowery perfume.

All the men were wearing fancy evening suits. The young women were in twenties flapper dresses and the older women more modest dresses. I looked down at my costume and decided it just fitted in. Staring into the ballroom again, there was no one I recognised but then it was hard with everyone wearing masks.

Feeling better, though wondering where everyone else was, I spotted Kendell in her white frilly dress and swan feather mask off to one side near a glass door. She was talking with a man in a blue dinner suit and both had wine glasses in their hands.

Thinking I could do with a drink, I looked around but saw no table or bar or waiter in which to get one from. So, I crossed the room and went to Kendell. As I neared I caught some of their conversation.

‘I did not want to turn her away,’ Kendell was saying in a low voice.

‘It could spoil everything! This has never happened before!’ the man snapped back.

‘It is almost nine O’clock, it will be over soon.’

I stopped, ‘nine O’clock?’ I cried, ‘I didn’t even realise I’d been upstairs for that long!’

Kendell and the man spun to look at me but most of their expressions were hidden by the masks. The man had dark brown hair and his mask like a leering red face.

‘Are you feeling better now?’ Kendell ask.

I nodded as the man sulked off.

‘I could do with a drink though!’

‘Of course,’ Kendell uttered.

She took my hand and placed it in the crook of her arm. Before I had time to tell her how odd that was, she was leading me out of the ballroom, down a corridor and into a dinning room set for around twenty people. There was a bowl of fruit in the middle of the table, a tray of glasses and few bottles of wine.

‘Help yourself,’ Kendell stated.

‘This is odd, didn’t you hire any staff?’ I asked.

Kendell didn’t reply.

I choice a red wine, uncorked it and poured myself a glass.

‘I guess it must have cost A LOT to hire this place out!’ I said then carried on, ‘especially, on New Year’s Eve! I hope I’ve not miss much. I’ve been looking forward to this. I’ve always wanted to do a murder mystery game night and now you’ve made it happen.’

I took a few sips of the wine and turned to Kendell. She was gone.

‘Kendell?’ I called.

A long, high pitched scream echoed through the room.

Almost dropping my glass as I placed it on the table, I hurried back into the hallway. It was empty, so I dashed to the ballroom.

The scream came again, more desperate and female sounding. The ending was blocked by a loud blast of thunder.

In the ballroom, people had froze, looking towards the double doors then everyone left, talking in low voices about what could have happened. I joined the end of the group. More people came out from other rooms until about twenty-odd, maybe thirty of us were all gathered in the entrance hall.

‘This is it! The murder has happened!’ I said excitedly.

‘Murder?’ a woman’s voice said at the side of me.

I nodded and went to speak more but there came a rush of footsteps and Jarrett appeared at the top of the grand staircase.

‘She dead!’ he yelled, ‘my wife, Louisa, is dead!’

To be continued….

The Murder Mystery Party (Part 1)

I glanced at the Sat Nav as the female voice told me, ‘you have reached your destination,’  then out of the car’s front window. There was nothing but this single track country lane and tall hedges either side.

‘I’ve not reached my destination!’ I snapped.

Driving on, I looked for any sign that I was close. In the full beam headlights, I saw a red arrow pointing onwards and words I didn’t catch.

‘Just little further then. You can do this, Jane,’ I said.

My grip on the steering wheel was tight, my knuckles had gone white a few miles back. I was praying there was nothing coming towards me. The wind was reaching gale force, I could feel the car rocking and the tops of the hedges were beginning to sway drunkenly. Rain drops splattered down once more and I put the wipers on.

The hedges dropped on my right, a tall red brick wall topped with black spikes came into view, half sheltered by trees left to grow wild. I breathed out then in, relaxed my hands and body. I moved my feet over the pedals and slowed the car down.

More wall, more trees, it seemed never ending. The wall dropped lower, the trees gone, replaced with hedge that once had been groomed into shape but was now untameable. I slowed down further, almost to a crawl, I didn’t want to miss the turning after all of this!

A large white sign; Toski Castle jutted out at me from the side view. Huge black open gates that looked like they had come straight out of Hell appeared. They were attached to giant grey stone pillars, upon which sat leering monstrous gargoyles.

I stopped the car and looked through the gates. A dark road led upwards, trees over shadowing it, there was no sign of a building. I glanced at the Sat Nav and saw the little imagine of a car driving through space with a red question mark over it.

‘There’s nothing else for it,’ I said aloud, ‘and if it’s the wrong address then maybe they can tell me the right one.’

I indicted and drove up the driveway. The full beam headlights showed over grow lawn strips on each side, bushes and trees acting as a double boarder. I went down a steep dip, over a small hill and saw a large arched gate house like bridge structure ahead. Through this which wasn’t lit up, was another two hills and the entrance way.

This structure was far grander then the little gate house, it looked like two smaller stone castle towers connect by a high arched bridge. There were glass windows in both towers, though no light shone. I wanted to stop and make it out better but I didn’t want to be any later then I all ready was.

Driving through, I came to the actual driveway of the castle. The road was clear on both sides, gravel had been laid down to create areas to park and little security lights placed low down aided in parking nicely. There were no cars. I recalled in the letter I had received along with the invitation, something about that being the over-flow car park.

I drove on, under another small bridge also sided by stone towers and into the area before the castle. This was a large square of gravel, walled in by ten foot high, large stone sides. Dim lights give hardly any chance for me to full understand the structure. I parked in the left up corner, noticing the lack of other cars.

The car’s dashboard clock told me it was almost seven-thirty PM, the party had all ready started. I looked out of the window but couldn’t make much out in the dim light. Maybe, I was in the wrong place after all? But how many other Toski Castles where in Lancashire? None that the internet had said.

I got out of the car and grabbed my things; handbag, large rucksack, suitcase and my sky blue masquerade mask. Locking the car, I walked up six steps to archway, behind which the castle rose. It was hard to tell in the darkness how impressive this place was. The photos I had seen online showed a Victorian manor house in the style of a romantic medieval castle.

Security lights lit the way but I wondered why there were no lights coming from the windows, of which there were many. Maybe, it had something to do with the spirit of the party and the curtains had all been drawn? There was just enough light to see that the castle looked like something out of an old movie. It give the imagine of having been around for hundreds years but it was only like hundred and fifty odd years old.

The ‘fake’ castle had been neglected and saved often but some parts were still crumbling. The dark walls held tales of mystery and murder, making it just perfect for my best friend Kendell’s New Year’s Eve Murder Mystery Party.

Stepping into the courtyard, I looked for any sign of party noise and movement. Perhaps, I had come to the back of the house instead of the front? Though it didn’t seem likely. I turned around and around, feeling a slight fear that the darkened windows were watching and judging me.

A security light pinged on, making me jump. I laughed it off, now seeing the courtyard clearly. There was a pathetic little fountain in the center; a stone vase tipped above a small walled pond. No water was coming out as it had been shut off for winter. The stone slabs under my feet were dark and wet with rain, which was still falling. The wind had dipped some but only because of the shelter of the walls.

There was a flight of stone steps in front of me leading to a double wooden door. I made my way up and saw a red bell rope danging down. There was a plastic covered piece of paper attached.

I reached for it and read it in the security light;

Welcome to Toski Castle, guests. Please ring the bell once and remember to put on your mask before entering!

Resting my suitcase down, I put on my mask and pulled the rope once. The sound of a bell echoed loudly.

The front door creaked open, darkness spilling out. I felt a tingle of excitement, a rush of nervous and a touch of fear. In a flash, my brain went to horror movies where lost travelers in storms find castles full of mad people and unspeakable things!

The rain suddenly pelted me and not wanting to get my ballroom styled nineteen-twenties, blue party dress any more wet, I hurried inside.

‘Hello?’ I shouted into the darkness.

A candle flickered on to my left then more appeared, even on a chandelier above and soon the whole hallway and grand staircase ahead of me was light up. Both were breath taking! The hallway was full of wood – the floor and the walls all paneled in a dark chestnut, the ceiling was painted white and decorated with a heavenly scene.

The staircase banisters were huge trunks of oak and the bottom pillars held bronze statues of half naked woman holding up old fashioned glass vase for gaslights. A red patterned and gold tasseled carpet ran up the stairs which then divided into a left and right at the top. There on that wall, was a huge painting of a Napoleonic battle scene. Men in red coats and men in blue coats fighting on horse back in a muddy landscape.

‘Wow, this is amazing! Nice trick with the candle lights,’ I added and laughed.

Music, piano and other classic instruments, started playing from some hidden room. I heard the hush of voices but couldn’t figure where they were coming from. There seemed to be too many wooden doors leading off the hallway and all were closed.

I heard the swish-swish of skirts and turned to my right. A figure emerged, in a floor sweeping, white frilly dress with a low cut chest and long sleeves. Covering most of her face was a white feather swan mask and wisps of tightly curled sliver-white hair bobbed on her head.

‘Kendell?’ I asked.

The figure stopped.

‘It’s me, Jane. Sorry, I’m so late. The bad weather and the Sat Nav…You did say the postcode might let me down!’

I smiled and in the pause heard laughter and the clicking of glasses.

‘I see,’ a muffled voice answered back, ‘come, let me show you to a room so you can refresh yourself.’

‘Oh! That would be lovely,’ I cried.

Kendell picked up the skirts of her dress in one hand and held on to the banister with her left. I collected my things and followed her up the broad staircase, half wishing her husband or somebody else, even Kendell, had offered to give me a hand with my luggage!

At the top, we turned left under the terror-stricken eyes of soldiers and horses from the painting. From a nearby table, Kendell picked up a gold candelabra and three candles flames danced in the breeze she caused. Using it to light the way,  we went up a smaller staircase and on to a dark landing.

In the dim light of the candles,  I noticed the frames of paintings, doors and windows lining both walls. I wanted to talk to Kendell but climbing those stairs had seemed to take all the energy out of me. Instead, I followed the tail of her white dress around corners, up and down stairs, until we came to a door which was slightly ajar opposite a large window box seat.

‘Here, this one is empty,’ Kendell’s muffled voice said.

‘How many people did you invite?’ I gasped, ‘we passed so many rooms!’

‘Some of them are not suitable and others are not bedrooms. You will be satisfied with this one,’ she said rather stiffly.

‘Getting into character all ready! I like it!’

Kendell huffed, shoved the candelabra into my hand and strolled off like an insulted peacock.

‘Wait!’ I called out after her, ‘I’m sorry! It’s very good!’

She turned the corner, the tail of her dress floating out and was gone.

‘Been like that then,’ I uttered under my breath, though I didn’t mean it. I was tried, cold and that wasn’t the grand entrance I had imagined on arriving.

I opened the door to the bedroom fully and went in.

 

To be continued….

The Wrong Summoning

I had stolen the Occult book from the antique bookshop a few days ago and now everything was almost ready to summon Satan. I planned to do a bargain with him, my soul for fortune and fame.

I lit the last black candle at the fifth point of the upside down pentagram. I took the sliver jeweled dagger and slit the blade across the palm of my left hand. With a glance at the open page, I shut my eyes, muttered the Latin words and wrote out the word ‘Satan’ in my own blood across the bare wooden floor of my parent’s attic.

Finishing the ritual, I peered down and saw my blood shinning in the flickering candle light. I read the letters; S-a-n-t-a.

‘Ho-ho-ho!’ a booming voice shouted out.

I jumped, my hands landed across the still wet name on the floor, smearing the blood. Looking up, I saw a mountain of a man standing in the middle of the black chalk pentagram. He was dressed in a bright red suit, trimmed with white snowflake like fluff, he had black shiny boots laced tight and with brass studs down the sides. A top his head was massive red hat, trimmed white which flopped over at the end with the weight of a huge white pom-pom.

He had long, white snow glittery hair and beard decorated with sliver bells, small baubles in red, green, blue and gold, also holly leaves and red berries. He had a fat, jolly face with pink circle cheeks and some wrinkle lines about his bright blue eyes and large lips. There was also a sweet smell like; warm biscuits, cinnamon and hot chocolate.

‘Satan?’ I whispered.

‘Santa!’ he corrected me.

‘What?’ I mouthed.

‘Hee-Hee! Ho-ho-ho!’

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t want you, I wanted-‘ I trailed as I looked down at the bloody letters on the floor.

‘But you did summon me, young man,’ Santa’s booming voice came.

I pressed my lips together, not sure what to say.

‘Now, what is it you want? You have disturbed my slumber. Christmas day was two days ago, you know,’ he said in a jolly tone.

‘I’m sorry,’ I called out, finding my voice, ‘there’s been a mistake. I want Satan! NOT YOU!’

Santa stared at me with piercing blue eyes. The happy, jolliness faded from his face and he become angry and menacing. That look really didn’t suit him and I felt a shiver of fear.

‘James Michael Benedict,’ Santa spoke, ‘you have been on my Naughty List for as long as I can remember.’

I opened my mouth then closed it again, words failed.

‘Have you called on me to try and change your ways?’

I shook my head.

‘Right then.’

Santa put his hand in a deep side pocket and pulled out a yellow scroll and a white feather ink pen. He unrolled the scroll and handed it to me with the pen.

I took it, unable to refuse, my hands shaking. The script on the thick paper was in curly writing and the words the kind lawyers use on fancy business contracts. I couldn’t make much sense of what it was saying but that also might be because I couldn’t focus. My brain had seemed to have left me.

‘Sign at the bottom, James,’ Santa said.

‘What is this?’ I asked, trying to read it.

‘What do you think it is? The reason why you summoned me; a bargain.’

‘My soul for fortune and fame?’

Santa frowned, ‘not exactly. Those are not the deals I do.’

‘My soul for what then?’ I inquired, looking over the top of the scroll.

‘To get on to the Good List, James,’ Santa explained.

‘No!’ I cried.

I threw the scroll and pen away over the top of the candles and against some forgotten, dusty box in the attic.

‘That’s not what I want! I don’t care about the Good List! I want money and fame.’

Santa clicked his fingers and the scroll and feather pen were back in his hand. He pushed them on me again. I tried to stop myself from taking them but my hands were not my own.

‘Now, sign,’ Santa demanded.

I felt the cut on my palm re-opening, the blood lined the wound once more. I dipped the ink pen into the blood and wrote my name at the bottom of the scroll. I couldn’t seemed to stop, even though I wanted too.

The scroll and pen flew away from me. Santa held them once more. He looked down at them, seemed satisfied and put them back into his pocket. Then he held out his hand and took my own, the one with the cut palm.

A chilly, north wind howled around the attic, snowflakes drifted. The candles went out, the smoke curling into nothing within the darkness. Jingle bells sounded.

I felt a whoosh, freezing air blazed me and I was flying up the old chimney. We landed on the roof which was covered in frost. Snow was still falling and the wind blowing. Before us was a glossy red sled, decorated with bells, holly and tinsel. A team of  harnessed reindeer were pulling the sled.

‘Wait…’ I spoke out.

‘Get in,’ Santa said.

‘No…What did I just agree to?’

‘Your soul is mine now and since it is still December and just in the season, I am allowed to claim it now.’

‘But that’s not what I wanted!’ I shouted.

‘I’m tried of you now, James,’ Santa said.

He shook his head and dragged me into the sled. I tried to dig my feet into the roof but it was slippery. He picked me up with ease and put me into the back, throwing rough sacks over me.

I tried to struggle out, but the sacks, though empty, were heavy and I couldn’t move them.

‘Let me go!’ I screamed.

Santa climbed into the front, took the reins and slapped them down. The reindeer ran forward. I screamed as we took off. The reindeer and sled flew into the sky. My ears popped and my screaming echoed. I had accidentally sold my soul to Santa.

Boxing Day

Heather looked into her new pug puppy’s bed. There was a small golden box.

‘What is this?’ she wondered.

‘He forgot to give that to you yesterday in the excitement of everything,’ her boyfriend Ben said.

Heather laughed, unwrapped and opened the box. Inside was an engagement ring. She turned to Ben who’d gotten down on one knee.

‘Will you marry me?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ Heather cried.

Christmas Day

The sound of children’s voices talking woke Ellie up. She stirred, wanting to go back to sleep after staying up so late finishing off the Christmas preparations. The excitement of her children wasn’t going to allow her that lay in though.

Her bedroom door crept open, squeaking too loud to be ignored and Ellie felt her husband waking up beside her. She nudged him before flipping the duvet back and turning on the lamp. In the glow, she could see her two children standing in the doorway, red stockings clutched in their hands.

‘What is it?’ Ellie asked sleepily, even though she knew the answer thanks to their bright, smiley faces.

‘Christmas!’ they both shouted and dashed for the bed.

Ellie burst into laughter. Her husband groaned then woke up, realising what was happening as the kids began unwrapping presents.

‘Is this all from Santa?’ he asked, looking around in pretend awe.

‘Yes!’ the children answered then began babbling over what they had found in the stockings.

Ellie smiled, her whole body filled with happiness at seeing her children so joyful and this was just the start of Christmas Day, there was a lot more to come throughout the next few hours.

Christmas Eve

The church bells rang out signalling the start of midnight mass. People walked or drove  over, some carrying presents or boxes of food for the poor. Snowflakes fluttered from the dark sky whilst fairy lights everywhere twinkled warmly. The fresh air was mingled with the scents of pine, hot cooking and frankincense.

In the church they gathered, singing hymns and saying prays by the flickering candle light. They celebrated the birth of a baby thousands of years ago that they believed changed the world for the better. With hearts full of joy and wonder, they wished for a Christmas of peace.

A Little Christmas Tree

It was a freezing snowy evening the day before Christmas eve 1842, but ten year old Christabel still wanted to go outside. Her parents had gone to the theatre and with tomorrow being a busy day the servants had all gone to bed early, expect for Christabel’s Nanny and maid.

The three of them were sat before the crackling fireplace in the nursery. Nanny and maid were sewing up holes in socks and dresses, they were growing tired with the heat of the room and the darkness. Christabel had been reading a book of poetry but she was finding it difficult and her mind kept wondering.

She looked over at the window and saw in the glow of the gaslights from the street below that it was snowing again. The silent, soft balls of white were floating down lazily, brushing against the frosty glass.

‘I want to go out,’ Christabel declared, there was still a slight lingering of a french accent to her words.

Nanny looked up at her then over to the window, ‘it’s late and snowing,’ she answered.

‘I don’t care,’ Christabel declared.

Throwing her book down, she left the nursery and went to her bedroom. Christabel pulled out her red winter coat which she put on over her white evening dress then sort a hat to match.

‘I really do not think this is a good idea. It is all most bed time,’ Nanny said from the doorway.

Christabel ignored her and emptied more of the wardrobe out, scattering the clothes around with no care.

Her maid came forward and with the ease of knowing her little mistress’ wardrobe, found a suitable white hat with a red flower, black ankle walking boots and a white hand muff. She dressed the child quickly as she had down for years now, without saying a word. The maid knew her place well.

‘I want to go out,’ Christabel stated and now dressed, she left the room.

With a sign, Nanny returned to her room to get ready. The maid began tidying away all the clothes. Christabel walked down the grand staircase, the gaslights on the wall pooling light around and casting shadows on the paintings high above. The silence and stillness of the house give Christabel a slight chill but she would not show it or say anything to the servants.

Stepping into the hallway, Christabel found that only one gas lamp had been left on. The housekeeper had left it for her parents return. The stretching corridor behind her looked unfamiliar, dark, scary and she imagined it full of wild animals waiting to eat her. Christabel turned her back on it and looked at the front door.

Soon Nanny joined her and they walked out together. The snow fluttered around them and Christabel with all child wonder, looked up and around. She smiled and wanted to laugh but held it in. They walked across to the little park that stood in the middle of a square shape block of houses. There was no one else out but them.

The snow was thick and untouched on the ground, they walked down the path which could be just made out in the dim glow of the street gas lamps. Christabel breathed in the cold air, it chilled her but she felt warm enough not to complain. From between the evergreen bushes which the snow was slowly turning white, she saw something shinning.

‘What is that?’ she pointed out.

Nanny looked and replied, ‘I do not know.’

Christabel walked over and found that near the bandstand someone had put up a pine tree and decorated it. Glass coloured balls, white frill lacy, other little ornaments decorated the branches and at the top a red star. She stared in wonder, it was so beautiful and she had not seen anything like it before.

‘Oh,’ Nanny said, ‘it’s a Christmas tree.’

Christabel repeated the words to herself in a whisper.

‘It is pretty,’ Nanny added, ‘the king and queen have one. They are becoming fashionable.’

Still in silent wonder, Christabel looked at the reflection of light and snow in the glass balls. There was something magical and awing about the decorated tree that she  could not look away or think of what to say.

‘We should get back now,’ Nanny spoke after a minute or so, ‘it’s getting colder and the snow is thickening.’

‘What will happened to the tree?’ Christabel asked.

‘I…Nothing. People will come to admire it and maybe on Christmas day everyone will sing and give gifts around it.’

Christabel nodded and looked up at the star which seemed to be shinnying.

A cold wind started blowing, the snow fell faster and thicker.

Nanny took Christabel’s hand, ‘we need to go now. You can come back and see the tree again.’

‘Yes,’ Christabel answered.

Together they walked back. Nanny wanted to go quickly but the snow half-blinded them and the path was slippy as the new snow was freezing on top of the layer they had walked on. Tall trees loomed on the path, shaking in the wind and making them both feel nervous.

They reached the park gates soon enough and were back on the well light street. Stopping to get there breath, they both heard the clip clop of horses’ hoofs and the creaking of wooden wheels. Around a corner came a black handsome cab pulled by a dappled grey mare.

The carriage stopped outside a house and the driver helped two figures get out. The horse stomped on the ground, eager to be off to a warm stable. The reins rattled loudly then the handsome’s door was banged shut and the driver snapped the reins. The mare neighed and walked on.

Nanny and Christabel crossed over and walked up the gate of the house. The figures before them had seemed to be heading this way too and as the front door opened and light was realised out, Christabel saw her parents.

‘Mama! Papa!’ she shouted.

Her parents turned on the doorstep, dressed in all their theatre finer, Christabel ran up to meet them, almost falling over.

‘Come and see what we found in the park!’ she cried.

‘Christabel what are you doing awake and out at this hour?’ Mama demanded, ‘get inside at once!’

Christabel stepped into the house, still talking as she tried to tell her parents all about the walk, the snow and the Christmas tree. Her parents did not seem to be listening to her though. They are taking off coats and hats.

Nanny helped Christabel out of her things, not saying anything though the child included her. Nanny kept her eyes down, she knew she was in trouble with the Master and wanted nothing to do with the child’s talk of the tree.

‘What are you going on about?’ Mama finally cut in.

Christabel opened then shut her mouth, realising her parents had not been listening to her. She felt a bubble of emotion and tears pricked her eyes. She held her breath and tried to keep it all in. Her parents disliked it when Christabel got hysterical and they would not give into her demands then.

‘Miss Lockwood,’ Papa spoke addressing Nanny.

‘Yes, Sir,’ the Nanny began the gushed, ‘Miss wanted to see the snow in the gas lights, how wonderful it is! We went to the park and someone has decorated a tree there like the king and queen have in the palace. It was pretty and Miss I think would like to have one of her own in the house.’

Christabel nodded looking at both her parents full of excitement as a silent crept in.

‘We will see about it tomorrow,’ Papa answered, ‘now to bed.’

‘Thank you, Papa!’ Christabel cried.

She kissed her parents, bid them goodnight and went upstairs. Nanny trailed behind, carrying everything up, glad that things had worked out.

Christmas Cards

Sitting back in her armchair, with hands that never stopped shaking, Mary opened the envelopes of the three letters the postman had just put through the door.

The first was an electric bill she would have to go to the post office to pay off. The second was a junk letter about signing up for a credit card and the third was a charity circular  which as well as wanting her to send money for homeless people, contained a Christmas card and gift sticker labels.

Mary looked at the Christmas card, it was a drawing of a brass band playing in the snow next to a town centre war memorial. She smiled and opened the card. It was blank inside.

Putting the other letters aside, Mary got up and placed the card with the handful of others on the window sill, next to the little Christmas tree who’s fibre optic lights changed colour and give little magic to the cold room.

Going back to her chair, Mary pulled a blanket she had knitted over her knees and dozed in front the TV. She was not interested in watching much now, it was mostly the background noise and the sound of voices that made her keep the TV on all the time.

The doorbell rang around lunchtime, breaking into a dream Mary had been having about being a little girl lost in a snowy countryside. Mary stirred, heard the door unlock and open.

A voice called out, ‘Mary? it’s only me, nurse Sandra. Sorry I’m late. It’s terrible weather out and Mr Lambrook fell this morning! Such a fuss! Are you okay?’

‘Hello, I’m fine thanks,’ Mary answered.

Sandra appeared in the doorway, rain dripping off the hem of her health visitor’s blue and white dress. Her dyed bright red hair was tied back into a bun and her face was blotchy red with cold and rushing about.

‘How about I make us a cup of tea and some soup?’ Sandra asked.

‘That would be lovely.’

Watching the lunchtime news they ate and drink, making light comments on the daily events. Then Sandra ran some health checks on ninety-three year old Mary, asked some basic questions and made a few notes.

Waiting for Mary to come back from the bathroom, Sandra noticed the new Christmas card and realised she had received the same one yesterday. Getting up, she left her notebook on the chair and went to the windowsill. Picking up the card, she opened it and saw it was blank.

Placing it back, Sandra looked in the other cards and found that all ten were blank. A few had come from charity letters, one from a high street shop valuing a loyal customer, another a craft magazine sample and two others from packs of cards that donated money to charity when brought.

Sandra felt a wave a sadness. Had no one sent Mary a real Christmas card this year and when was the last time anyone had?

Hearing the toilet flush, Sandra returned to the other armchair and took up her notebook once again. She wanted to write her finding down and suggested Mary was lonely. Sandra knew not much would come of that though, other then another push to get Mary to move into a care home. Mary had repeatedly refused, she wanted to die in the house she had been born in, like her mother before her.

‘Did you manage okay?’ Sandra asked as Mary shuffled into the room.

‘Yes,’ Mary answered though she seem out of breath.

‘Right. I’ve just a few more things and then I have to go.’

They finished up, said their goodbyes and Sandra went out to her little blue car. Sitting there, Sandra looked at the closing door of Mary’s house and wished she could do something to help the old woman.

Well…maybe there was….

The next day, the postman dropped more letters through Mary’s door. Mary hobbled from the kitchen were she had been cleaning up milk she had spilt. Collecting the letters, she went back into the kitchen where it was warmer and opened the envelopes.

There was a Christmas card and inside was writing.

Mary read the words, tears coming to her eyes. Sandra had sent her a card.

Abandoning the other letters, Mary took the card and moving the blank charity one, placed Sandra’s next to the flashing tree.

All day, Mary’s eyes kept going to the Christmas card and she found herself constantly smiling.