It was still hot when Abby walked out of her workshop. That’s why she decided not to retreat yet but go to the little body of water, the builders used to cool down on their breaks. The estate was abandoned, although Abby often had the feeling she wasn’t alone. She had always been very sensitive to energies floating around. And she’d spent enough dark and lonely nights on these grounds to realise whoever still roamed the grounds, meant her no harm.
On a rock that emerged from the water, Abby took off all of her clothes. She wasn’t shy about her body in general. Working with men mostly, she was pretty comfortable taking her clothes off. She didn’t feel like going inside and trying to find if she’d packed her bathing suit.The cool water enveloped her as she jumped in. For a while she played around in the water, enjoying a proper cool down. When she considered getting out, she heard a dog bark not far from her.
Startled, she turned around to see in the direction it came from. From the woods beyond, a large dog came charging at her. Abby wasn’t sure what to do, scared the beast would go straight for her. Before it reached the water though, she heard a high whistle. “Conan!” A male voice yelled.
Conan. Excellent name, Abby considered. The dog didn’t jump into the water but didn’t go for its master either. Instead, he sat down at the edge of the pond, staring at Abby, who was still butt naked in the water.
The best thing she could do for her dignity was to wait it out. The dog wasn’t going to drag her out of the water.
“Oh, sorry to interrupt your swim.” A somewhat older man in jeans and a shirt walked up to the dog. “Sorry about Conan. He’s usually well behaved, but this part of the woods always has him on edge.”
Abby didn’t know what to say. “You’re the carpenter restoring the house, right?” The man pointed in the direction of it.
“Yeah. Sorry. I’m Abby.”
“I’m Jim. I live on the farm a bit that way.” He waved in the other direction. “I usually go by here for our evening walk. Didn’t expect anyone.”
Slowly it sank in with Abby what he was saying. “Why is… Ehm Conan nervous around here?”
“Don’t you know? You’ve spent time in the house. They say it’s haunted. Did you say your name was Abby, from Abigail?”
She nodded, trying to keep her dignity as she tried not to let him in on the fact that she wasn’t wearing any clothes.
He seemed to find it amusing. “They say she, the lady of the house, way back when, drowned herself here. Something about marital problems, infidelity, or you know… Funny, her name was Abigail too.”
Abby swallowed at hearing that. “Anyway, they say her ghost and her husband’s still roam the grounds looking for each other. Can’t quite remember the whole story.”
“I didn’t know,” Abby uttered.
The man looked around and noticed her clothes on the rock. One glance told him she wasn’t wearing anything. He chuckled. “I better let you enjoy your evening bath. God knows you need it, in this heat. Come on, Conan.”
“Good evening, Jim. Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise, milady.” He made a gesture as if he tipped his head, then turned around, ordering the large dark dog to come with him.
Abby remained in the water a little longer. Letting what he had said sink in. Suddenly felt tainted. Had she drowned herself here? Abigail? The very Abigail from her dreams? Abby hurried out of the water, quickly putting her clothes back on as she was not sure if more dog walkers might choose this route for their evening walk.
Jim had not appeared put off, although Abby had seen that he had very much noticed her nakedness. There was nothing to be ashamed of, really, if she thought about it.
A few days later that she was on her own in the workshop. It was the end of the day; she was doing the finishing touches on parts of the bed. Tomorrow both apprentices would be around, and they’d assemble it. Abby would have loved to do that on her own, but the job was simply too big. There were also a few other things she needed help with. Pretty soon it would all be finished. The thought made her sad. She’d come to love this house and the grounds so much even if it gave her weird dreams. That night she’d dreamt of a weeping Abigail. Not strange after what Jim had told her about the former Mistress of the House.
“People!” She heard someone yell from outside. A knock on the door to the workshop followed.
To her surprise, it was Jim with Conan in his wake.
“Does he scare you?” Jim asked kindly after greeting her.
Abby shook her head. “Not at all. As long as I don’t have to be scared, he’ll drag my naked arse out of the pond.”
Jim laughed. “Yeah, I could see how you would have feared that. Conan is a great rescuer.”
Abby stepped aside to let in dog and owner. “What can I do for you?” She asked, checking them out.
“I got curious, and I brought you something.” He handed her a book. “It’s the history of the estate.” It was an old book that looked as if it had been read often. “The story of Abigail and Antoine is in there.”
The gasp Abby gave escaped him as he looked around the room.
She had not studied the history starting this job but found as she was nearly finished, she was getting curious. Over time she’d spoken to several people in the neighbourhood. In local shops, and tradespeople from the nearby town. They had dropped snippets of stories about the estate.
“That’s very kind of you. I’ll make sure to return it.”
“Found it in the local charity shop yesterday, thought you might want to have it.” He walked over to the drawings that she’d pinned to the wall. “You’re really taking it back to the Victorian era?” He wanted to know.
“Just the materials and style. It is meant to be lived in now.”
“Good job. I’m sorry, I’ll not keep you any longer.”
“No trouble at all. Can I offer you a cup of coffee, or tea perhaps?”
Jim shook his head. “Nah, we better be off. If you want to go swimming, we’ll not bother you tonight.”
“I hadn’t planned to.” Abby held up the book. “Thank you so much for this.”
That night Abby fell asleep with the book still in her hands. The estate had a fascinating history. She had already thought it a mysterious place. She wasn’t the only one who was susceptible to its energy.
“Abigail!” Antoine yelled. He stopped his horse in the hope of hearing her yell back. She was gone for hours; she could be anywhere. “Abigail!” He was starting to panic. Drowsy, he put his horseback in motion. He had to find her. To tell her he did trust her, that his anger had not been for her. He had first tried the road towards the town. Surely if she wanted to be away, that’s where she was heading to catch the morning post. He had not found her. No one had seen her. So he returned to the estate, trying several of their usual haunts.
Yelling her name again, Antoine halted. He should go back to the house and organise a proper search party. The alcohol he had to make sure he wouldn’t get violent was clouding his brain. Abruptly he turned, hearing something in the distance. He listened carefully and thought he could hear a woman cry. She was still here! She was okay! A loud eerie scream startled Antoine’s horse, making it zoom off into the darkness. Antoine tried to hang on for dear life. Tried to get the animal back under control. Sober, he was an excellent horseman. But he wasn’t sober. He yelled at the horse that was taking him away from the cry. In a desperate move, Antoine pulled the reigns. The horse wouldn’t stop and dashed through the trees. Antoine never even saw the branch that unseated him.
With a heavy feeling in his body, Tony woke up. That was a bizarrely, vivid dream. Not a nice one this time. He still felt the panic his dream-alter-ego had felt. The need to find her. He had dreamed too much about this couple to wonder who ‘her’ was. Abigail. In general, he could place what he dreamed and why. This time, however, he was lost. He’d had a regular shift at the restaurant the night before. The new chef was settling in nicely, and Susan was getting ready to replace him as head chef. Was he scared of the loss if he’d leave? Afraid to be lost? He didn’t think so. The idea of leaving, and moving back to his motherland was somewhat daunting. He knew it was the right move. He wasn’t going to find what he was looking for by running all over the world.
Although he was awake already, he still startled when his phone rang. The London office. Some people never got the hang of time zones.
“Julie, what’s up?” He liked the woman he had appointed as manager of his UK affairs. He liked how tough and smart she was.
“The house is nearly done.” She said without introduction. “If you want to put it on the market, before the start of fall is an excellent moment in the housing market here.”
Tony ran his hand through his dark curls.
“Sorry, I just woke up.” He apologised. “Ehm. I’m not sure I want to sell. I think I want to live there a while first.”
“Tony, you asked me to always be honest with you. The hotel and restaurant aren’t doing well. The house, now it’s restored is worth quite some money. You cannot afford to put the sale off for very long if you want to make some money.”
He did not have any plans for the hotel and restaurant yet. The same people had been running it for ages. Upon inheriting it, he’d not intended to change anything. He had been too busy in Australia and had put off deciding on it until later. Recently the renters had let Julie know that they were thinking of not extending the lease. It was hard to make a profit; they were getting older and wanted to enjoy their pension. It made it necessary for Tony to read up and think of what he wanted. Did he want to run it? He’d owned and ran restaurants, even a city hotel. Was he ready for an estate? A castle even?
“Julie, I’m sure it’ll keep for another month.” He reassured her. He had hired her for her go-get nature. It wouldn’t do to be upset about it.
“We can organise a party for when you are here, to see if there’s any interest.” She suggested.
Tony sighed. “Sure. If you’ll take care of that…”
She promised to do so. If Tony were honest with himself, he’d merely said yes to get her to shut up about selling. He wasn’t ready to make that decision yet.
The heavy feeling he’d had waking up, had not wholly waned when he got up and started his day.
Abby felt a knot in her stomach when she packed her bag. It was nearly midnight. That day the last of the deliveries had arrived, and the house was finished. She could think of a thousand things she could still do, but it wouldn’t add. One more night, she would sleep in this apartment. The schedule had required them to be done by November 1st. They had made it with a little over a week to spare. Through the window of her bedroom, Abby looked at the house. It seemed to be calling out to her. The light on the porch wasn’t enough to drown out the darkness. She was tempted to sleep in that huge bed she’d built, in that beautiful bedroom that was awaiting its new master.
It wasn’t appropriate. No one would know, but Abby would. In a few days, the owner would come and take stock. To see her work. She didn’t want to be there for it, and Julie hadn’t invited her. Julie would be. She’d been by with the architect, while the movers were taking care of the last things. The architect was pleased with the result. He had given his blessing.
After everyone had left, Abby had walked through the house. Very much like that first day. Listening, feeling the energy. It had told her that the house was satisfied with the work she’d done. There had been a few struggles, but they’d mostly come to an agreement. It was ready to meet its new inhabitant. And yet it seemed unable to let go of Abby.
She picked up the book from the nightstand and doubted. Did this belong in the study of the house, or was it okay if she took it home?
The story of Abigail and Antoine was in there. She’d read it several times. How was it possible to dream about people she hadn’t known before, so accurately?
Suddenly Abby was scared she couldn’t control herself anymore. She threw the last things in her bag, carried it downstairs with her suitcase. Then she ran back up and removed the bedding, throwing it in her car with her luggage. She’d intended to spend one more night on the estate but decided that if she was to go, she’d better make it quick and painless.
Not until
she’d driven the car onto the road, did she realise that she had nowhere to go.
Her newly rented apartment wasn’t available yet. The keys to the house she’d
deliver to Julie later. The other woman had asked Abby to hang onto them until
the owner had done his inspection. He might want some other work done, and it
would be easier if Abby would be able to. So far it had been a well-paying job,
she couldn’t complain. But was she ready to see someone else take possession of
the first place in decades she’d felt at home at? It was ridiculous that she
felt hurt. From the get-go, she knew it was not her house, not her home. Slowly
but surely it had drawn her in though with its moods, and its dreams. She
wondered if they would cease now. She’d come accustomed to waking up with the
feeling Antoine had just stopped touching her. It had been a wild ride.
Because it
would not do to either sleep in her car or keep driving, she got to a nearby
hotel. It was stupid. She could have stayed one more night. But there was no
going back now.
Tony walked out of the airport and was welcomed by the pouring English rain. He’d gotten his suitcase and the keys to a rental car before he made it outside. It had been full Spring in Melbourne. “Really?” He exclaimed as he felt the rain trickle down his neck. He’d been away for ages, and this was how he was welcomed back? It had been a long flight, and on the plane, he’d wondered why he did return. He could have sold the estate, or he would probably have some cousin who’d love to be bestowed the inheritance. Why had it gone to him anyway? With his parents, he’d lived in Birmingham. His father had been a very successful banker, his mother a schoolteacher who’d stopped working when she became pregnant with his elder brother. While Richard, five years his senior had marched into pace, Tony had everything but. He had been the bad boy, where his brother had been the promise.
Maybe he should get a hotel here for tonight. But he felt he wanted to be closer to home. He’d go to his house, his future home tomorrow. For tonight Julie had booked him into a hotel nearby. Not at the castle. He’d specifically asked her not to do that. The mere existence of it and the people in it was a problem he’d tackle later.
It was a long drive to Carlisle. At nearly midnight he finally pulled up to the parking lot of the hotel. He’d taken his time driving, stopping along the way for something to eat.
“Tony Fairfax, there’s a reservation, if I’m correct.” He had to keep from barking at the receptionist. It felt like he had travelled for two entire days, and frankly, it wasn’t much besides the truth.
“Of course, Mr Fairfax. I also have mail for you.”
The man behind the counter turned around and handed Tony a large cardboard envelope. He took it and opened it.
A key ring fell into his hand.
He swallowed as he looked at it. As if accepting this was a contract, he could not get out of. He’d been to the house years ago. It had been covered in dust and draughty—void of any furniture. Someone had told him the previous inhabitant had burned most of it in the courtyard in a psychotic episode. Claiming the wood was infused with the spirits of the house. Tony had no clue about spirits. He had begun to doubt about that since his dreaming started. They coincided with Julie telling him that the work on the house had started. Maybe they had kicked up a few ghosts. It made Tony grin. Whatever he had felt at the house, it had not been malicious. Neither had any of the contractors. Julie had not brought any problems to his door. However, he doubted if she would have either way.
“You know what? Never mind about that room. This is really all I need.” He had thrown the keys back in the envelope.
“But sir…”
“It’s fine,” Tony reassured the receptionist. He found he wanted to be home more than anything.
“I can’t refund the room.”
“That’s fine. Give some poor sod the breakfast tomorrow. It’s okay.”
He hoisted his backpack back up, turned around and ran at the door. Steering off the deserted parking lot, he almost hit another car. He made sure no harm was done and then hit the road again. Only for a few minutes this time.
Abby had to brake hard for a car zooming off the parking lot of the hotel she’d picked. It wasn’t far from the house. It was late, and she didn’t want to go wandering around. She caught a glimpse of the driver, but it was too dark to see anything. Shrugging, she turned onto the lot and parked close to the door. It wasn’t that full.
“I’m sorry I don’t have a reservation,” Abby said. She felt a little lost. After work, she’d not changed. There was still some dust on her hoodie, and her jeans were faded. She should invest in some new clothes soon. Croatia had been so far away from decent shops that she’d not bought anything, and over the last few months, she’d simply not gotten around to it.
“That’s okay. We just had a room open up.” The receptionist had been about to destroy the card he had just charged. It was a luxurious room, and he wondered if she could afford it. Then again he congratulated himself on working nights and pretty much being his own boss during that time. He took her credit card and charged her the cheapest rate of a standard room. It was already paid for, so why overcharge her? “This month’s special includes a free breakfast.” She barely heard him recite the times.
After starting the kettle in her room, she checked out her surroundings. The oversized bathroom with a shower and a bath, a huge bed. The view over the surrounding area, the river outside, and in the distance she could even see the castle she’d visited that first day and later again for lunch a few times. Probably silly that she’d not even considered driving out there for the night.
Tony parked in front of the house. It was dark, apart from the porch light. Julie had said the contractor lived above the garage for the time being. They should still be there. When Tony got out of the car, he didn’t see any sign of life. They could very well be asleep. After all, it was in the middle of the night. Not wanting to disturb anyone, he walked to the house and inserted the key. The lock clicked, and the door sprung open, triggering the light in the hallway. That was a nice feature for coming home late at night. Tony found it very considerate.
He looked around the room. It was dressed, but not overly furbished. The tile floor, woodwork, staircase shining. A side table with a bowl on it he immediately used to throw his keys in. It was exactly as he had requested, as he had imagined. A bit bare, leaving enough room for him to fill it up with his personality. A few things would be shipped over the next weeks, but not much. In years of mostly working, he’d not acquired a lot of possessions he couldn’t do without. Most of it he’d given to friends or charities.
Slowly he walked across the ground floor as if to carefully introduce himself to the house. He could feel it resonate and a strange sensation of home washed over him. He’d never felt at home anywhere. At least not since leaving for boarding school at age 11.
The kitchen was beautiful. Tony’s hand reached out and touched the old Aga. He was so happy they’d been able to preserve it. There was a vague smell of bread. It put a smile on his face. Cleverly covered by period-appropriate doors, he found all the ovens and things he requested. The rest had found a place in the utility room. They’d even provided him with a basic pantry, so he’d at least not be hungry.
“We’ll get closer acquainted tomorrow.” He promised the kitchen at large. From the pantry, he took a pack of biscuits, along with a bottle of water. Together with his backpack, he made his way up the stairs.
Walking into his bedroom, it felt like someone had just left. The bed, even the quilt on it, it looked exactly as it had in his dreams. The only thing missing from it was Abigail. He swallowed. What had he expected? That even that would be provided for him? He was of no doubt that Julie would gladly arrange a woman for him if he asked.
Just throwing off his jeans, shoes and socks, he slid into the bed. Everything smelled of a fresh fall morning. Without even opening the biscuits, his head hit the pillow, and he was off. Dreaming of Abigail with him, in this very bed.
Restless Abby had turned in the hotel bed. It was a lovely bed, that wasn’t the issue. But after years of living alone, it suddenly felt too lonely. In vain she’d tried to make her brain come up with a few pleasant fantasies, hoping for some kind of release. It didn’t come. Not until she fell asleep.
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