Afraid?
My neighbour rang up a few days ago and said that they had some friends staying .. and one of them was vaguely related to the family that originally owned this house. He would be so interested to see it so could they come over? By bizarre chance I had actually just cleaned the kitchen and put some flowers around so was able to say 'Yes' with the casual charm of the practised hostess. 'He knows quite a lot about their history and he's specially interested in the suicide.' 'But why? It was about two hundred years ago.' 'Oh no, not THAT one ... the other one.' 'EEk .. the other one? Well, whatever it is just DON'T tell me which room it was in .. I am mostly here alone you know.'

They turned up with a pleasant looking man and hung about the kitchen, drinking. After a bit, 'So, we'd better get on and look around', said my neighbour, 'You wanted to see the ballroom where the suicide took place didn't you?' 'WHAT! HOW COULD YOU! I said on the phone that you must NOT tell me which ROOM it was.' 'Oh, whoops ... but you don't really mind do you?' 'Actually, I do ... as that room is now my BEDROOM.'

The only good thing was that we worked out that there was only one suicide - about one hundred years ago. He was the younger son of a local grand family, who never married and was given the house for his own. He lived here alone except for the farmer in the totally separate but
joined on section, whose wife cooked and generally looked after him. We think he killed himself out of loneliness .... in my bedroom.

The thing is that I have never felt that my room is spooky, even in the depths of winter darkness. The only time was when it had first been converted back from a ruin and there was no proper electricity and no TV reception. For my first nights in there I made my son sleep in a bed next to me and we played cards for hours. It seemed a little unwelcoming and every time one of us swore, which was very, very often, I sensed a vague air of disapproval and told my son not to. But that has all gone now.

I will say the worst thing ... before they replaced the last coating of the ceiling I noticed that in one of the huge beams supporting the attic floor, and just over the bottom of my bed, was a large, ancient hook .....

Last night I was roused in the early hours by the sound of someone in my room choking to death. For F.ck's Sake, I thought, still asleep, I CAN'T be frightened by this ... because it's NOT REAL. And I lay there slowly waking up and so pleased that somehow I wasn't petrified and was dealing with it. And then the noise cleared and revealed itself as that infuriating crow which comes every morning in the dawn and sits on the windowsill making low, guttral croaking noises. Exactly like someone CHOKING TO DEATH. So, maybe it's a coincidence or maybe it is the reincarnation of the younger son. But either way it doesn't seem to upset me, weirdly, and perhaps having me in his room makes his spirit less lonely. But if that's the case why is he mean enough to wake me at five o'clock every single f.cking morning?
- posted by Iris @ 7/27/2005 09:15:00 PM comment