Chapter 17: Seventeen - A London Haunting: A Christmas Ghost Story

With no time to wait for buses that might never come, Lottie called an Uber to take her to Reggie’s. It was just after six, though, and rush hour still had the city in its iron grip. The journey was achingly slow, every red light a punishment, but she couldn’t do what Cam was doing and run there, her body simply wouldn’t allow it.

Oh, but this cab ride – she could scream!

The driver chatted merrily, oblivious, just like Tony would on a job. He was out here tonight too, in this snarl-up. She’d tried calling him, but no answer.

As for her mum, while waiting for the cab, she’d torn through the house looking for her. No sign. Like the book, she’d vanished too.

Together?

And if so…where had they gone?

Something else had nagged at her as she’d stood in the hallway earlier, having downed a hefty swig of Day Nurse to keep herself going. The house had smelled of cooking – a rich, comforting aroma, like a proper winter stew. Normally, her mum would leave it bubbling in the slow cooker for hours, but the slow cooker sat empty, its ceramic insert tucked into the dishwasher, still warm from a recent wash.

She’d checked the fridge, thinking her mum might have decanted it. Nothing.

Her mum, the book, the stew – all gone.

And like Tony, Jenny wasn’t answering her phone either.

“I’m sorry to be a pain, but I really need to be somewhere urgently. Is there another route we could take?” Lottie asked the driver and not for the first time. She’d asked twice already, just phrased it differently.

The journey should have taken twenty minutes – twenty-five tops – but that much time had already passed, and they were barely halfway there.

“Just have to be patient, love,” the driver replied. “Naught I can do.”

He’d said that before. Exactly that. Word for word.

She could have thumped the seat but stopped herself; that would only get her thrown out. Instead, she sat back, sniffing, trying not to cough all over him, and wound down the window for some fresh air, chill or not.

That dream she’d had…it was such a strange one. It began peacefully enough, then warped into an utter nightmare – set not in some distant, flower-strewn meadow, but at No.142 Long Mere Road itself.

A prophetic dream?

Had she known, deep down, that something was wrong, that she was needed at Reggie’s? That if the book was the key, it had to be used with care.

Unlocking mayhem otherwise.

Was that it? Was there mayhem at Reggie’s right now? And her mother there too – having called the agency, spoken to Sarah, and been told, in that bored tone, that yes, they’d send someone when they could, with no hint of when ‘when’ might be.

That wouldn’t have satisfied Jenny. She’d want better for Reggie than that.

Lottie sighed. How like her mother she was – neither of them the type to stand on the sidelines, offering sympathy but nothing more. No, like Lottie, Jenny would roll up her sleeves and get involved. She’d been champing at the bit for months to do just that, and now Lottie’s illness had given her the excuse she needed.

Lottie could see it unfolding before her eyes, like one of her visions.

Jenny had cooked for him and then, before leaving, had paused for a moment, thinking. The book on Lottie’s bedside table – the one she was meant to read to him next – she could take that too, get started on it for her. The agency could stuff their ‘when’. She’d go as a friend, doing what needed to be done for free.

Because she was kind. And Lottie was proud of her. But…

She shouldn’t have.

The longer they crawled through the traffic, the deeper that certainty became. Jenny should not have taken the key to No.142 from Lottie’s bag and gone there.

And now she was stuck there.

Her mother.

At last – oh, thank God, at last – the gridlock eased. The jam thinned until cars began to glide forwards again, the way ahead opening, clear as far as she could see.

She looked at the ETA on the driver’s satnav: ten more minutes.

Ten minutes – and though they were finally moving, it still felt far too long.

The first thing she noticed was the light in Reggie’s bedroom. It was flickering, just as it had been in the dream, as if the fitting had been knocked somehow and was now swinging back and forth. The second thing was the silence – no one on the street but her. Not even the usual curtain-twitchers. Their houses had devoured them.

And the night, she noticed that too. How cold it had become; how dark the sky had turned. Maybe it was her imagination, or something else entirely, but it seemed especially dark over Reggie’s house, black clouds congealing above it. What she didn’t hear, though, was any screaming. And that, at least, had to be a good sign.

As the cab sped off – and as desperate as she was to get moving – Lottie doubled over, the coughing she’d tried to suppress finally breaking loose. It went on and on, racking her body, draining her, until she forced herself into a run mid-fit.

When she reached the door, she grabbed the handle and pushed. It was locked, damn it, and she didn’t have her key. Raising a fist, she hammered on the wood, shouting for Cam and her mum, though her voice was too hoarse to carry far.

“Cam! It’s me – open up.”

No more silence. A dull thud from inside. Then a bang. And another.

A shout? A scream?

“Cam!”

The door flew open and Cam stood there, ashen-faced.

“Lottie,” he gasped. “I’m…I’m trying to get your mum out, but she’s like…frozen. Won’t move. Keeps saying she can’t leave Reggie. And him…he’s refusing to budge. He’s just…distraught. Gotta say, things are pretty wild in there.”

She didn’t mean to be rude, but she barged past him, her own heart pounding, needing to reach her mum and Reggie, to see for herself they were safe.

The moment she passed the threshold, the door slammed shut behind her, as if a sudden whirlwind had forced it.

“The police,” she said, her breath catching. “Have you called them?”

“I tried. My phone was charged, like fully charged, but the battery’s dead now. It’s the same with your mum’s – completely drained. You got yours?”

“Yeah, but…look, can I just get up there? See what’s happening.”

“The thing is, Lottie––”

“Cam!”

They were in darkness downstairs, so she flicked the switch. Nothing.

“The circuit’s tripped, I think,” Cam said. “Give me your phone so I can call the police.”

“Cam, wait.”

“But, Lottie––”

“Just wait, okay? If this is a haunting, if something’s been triggered, let’s see if we can calm it down. If…I can.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Cam paused, but only for a moment.

“This is the weirdest shit ever, but…okay. Let’s head upstairs, give it a shot.”

The weirdest shit ever, he’d said – yet he was still following her. He hadn’t prised open the front door and bolted.

Taking the stairs two at a time, they tore along the landing. The other doors – the ones forever locked – were rattling hard, just as the drawers and cupboards downstairs had, that time Reggie caught her in the kitchen. The whole house trembled around them, weeks of simmering tension now exploding into a full boil.

The book.

Had that been the trigger?

Keep reading, Dot had said. Then later: Don’t keep reading.

Rebecca…

After that innocuous first line, what had come after?

Rebecca…

The name pulsed through her head as she ran. Then another memory surfaced – the sound Reggie had made while mumbling: ca, ca, ca. Followed by, Sorry, my fault, so sorry.

Sorry to whom…Rebecca?

Of course, Rebecca!

She burst into the room.

There was Reggie, and there was her mum. Both appeared at first glance unharmed, though clearly in shock. Reggie sat in his chair, gripping the armrests so tightly his knuckles were bone white, his face just as drained. Jenny stood behind Lottie’s usual chair, hunched over it as if bracing for impact, shielding herself.

She straightened on seeing her. “Lottie!”

The room – ah, the room was in chaos. Whatever whirlwind had slammed the front door had torn through there too. Newspapers, food debris, clothes, sheets – everything had been caught up in it then flung aside. One curtain still clung valiantly to its rail; the other had been ripped down, trailing across the floor. It only half covered something that lay there, its aroma thick in the air. The stew – decanted into Tupperware, just as Lottie had suspected, then brought here.

The only things left untouched, as though sacred, the photo frame and the clock.

As for the book, that beautiful, leather-bound volume, a part of Mabel’s treasured collection – the very book that had leapt out at her – its pages were torn to shreds, then scattered like confetti. How she’d ever replace it, she didn’t know. It was a worry, but not the most pressing one right now.

“Mum, are you all right?” Lottie asked, then when Jenny gave a shaky nod, Lottie indicated for Cam to go to her, while she rushed to Reggie’s side.

Reggie, whose face was as rigid as his body, who was staring ahead, into an invisible distance, whose bottom lip was wobbling.

Now was the time, the perfect time for the laying on of hands.

“Reggie, it’s okay, it’s all right,” she said as she approached him. “We’re here. Whatever’s happened tonight, whoever did this, you don’t have to deal with it alone. It’s like I said before, we can sort this out, stop it from ever happening again.”

He shunned touch, this man, yet wanted companionship so much he’d pay for it, only to keep that companion at arm’s length. Even so, the fact he didn’t want to be alone anymore must indicate something: that he was frightened, and little wonder. He knew what they were capable of, whoever was haunting him. Their fury.

As she reached out, Lottie said her name, who she thought was responsible.

“If this is Rebecca––”

Almost – almost – within touching distance, but at the mention of that name, Reggie jolted back into life, full of fury too.

He screamed – actually screamed – as he batted her hand away. The sound was as shrill as the one she’d heard in her dream, echoing around the room, ricocheting off the walls, slamming back into her. Both terrifying and heart-wrenching.

She should try again – touch him, just touch him. Read him, not some leather-bound classic. Find out what tied him to Rebecca, what had caused all this. If this was a haunting, it was out of control. He couldn’t go on like this. They’d have to get him out of No.142 Long Mere Road and into somewhere else – by force if necessary. Involve the police, the social services, anyone who could help.

Her hand shot out, meaning to grab him, to seize both his arms, to hold on tight, even if the entire room exploded around them, but he was speaking now, seething.

“Get out. All of you. Or I’ll call the police.”

What? He’d call the police?

“Reggie, no,” she protested. “You can’t stay here – not if it’s haunted.”

“GET OUT! This is my home, and you’re not welcome anymore. None of you.”

Lottie tried again, desperate to reason with him.

“Please, just listen. You can’t stay here. Look at what’s just happened, what keeps happening – it’s dangerous. You know it as well as I do. It’s why you shut yourself away, why the other rooms are locked, the windows nailed shut, the doors and drawers too, because whoever Rebecca is, she gets angry. So, so angry. She can do this – wreck things.” She had to pause, take a breath, but then she quickly hurried on. “Reggie, look, I’m sorry, okay? About the book, the name of it. I had no idea it’d be… seized upon this way. None of it was meant, okay? But there is a way back, and I’ll help you to find it. A safer way. Just not here, not at first, not until we can be sure Rebecca’s gone, until she’s been…exorcised.” She glanced only briefly at her mother before declaring, “You can stay at mine while we sort it out.”

How Jenny’s eyes widened! As for Reggie, his eyes widened too at the prospect, causing her to blurt out the truth about herself, to explain further.

“I…I’m not just a carer, Reggie. I mean I am, but I’m something else as well. I have a psychic ability. A sixth sense. A gift, even. And I can help you with this, if you’ll let me. We can get to the root of why it’s happening and stop it. That’s what matters here: my ability to stop it. All I need is for you to take hold of my hand. That’s how I connect – through touch. That’s how I can see. Some things are painful to talk about – I know that – but if you hold my hand, you won’t have to say a word. I’ll understand anyway. And once I do, we can work out a plan to get you…unhaunted.”

The photo frame – already flung once before – shot off the mantelpiece again, Cam shouting for her to duck.

She did – just in time – then had to duck again as yet another object in the room that could cause damage, the clock, flew at her as well.

“Oh, my good Lord!” cried Jenny, horrified at the violence unfolding.

Cam left Jenny’s side and ran to Lottie, hauling her upright.

“Reggie––” he said, pleading with him too, but Lottie hushed him.

The atmosphere had reached its peak with the flying clock and the shattered frame. Now, she could feel it ebbing – the weight draining away, as though a plug had been pulled. The air was growing calm again and would remain that way for a while. The anger spent. Reggie himself had once said that’s how it worked.

Reggie, who now seemed to fold in on himself, slumping back in his chair. Seeing her chance to reach out again, Lottie assured Cam she was okay, then moved closer to the old man. She was barely a foot away when Reggie’s head jerked up.

“Leave my property, Lottie Beck,” he growled. “Take everything that’s yours and don’t ever – ever – come back. Whatever you think this is, whatever you claim you can do, whatever I might have…hoped for, you’ve only made it worse.”