They do say the strangest things happen
in the most agreeable of places. At least according to one
fellow traveler I happened to bump into on a rainy day in
late autumn. Even now, my fellow traveler is still unsure
that what she experienced actually occurred. However, it was
a pleasant enough pastime swapping the odd story of our
journeys over the years as we waited for the rain to cease
while sitting in a small cave opening barely big enough to
fit us both in. The view was stunning, if a little hazy
because of the rain, our eyes drifting over the spot nestled
in a green peaceful valley between a couple of mountains and
a lake.
I digress of course. You want to know
the actual story rather than our current disposition.
Therefore I shall begin the tale of Darcy Grainger…
+ + +
The Boars Head Inn occupied a prime spot
in the middle of the village of Massem, nestled in a valley
often closed off from civilization in the winter and open to
a trickle of foreign and domestic tourists in the summer.
The town boasted a population of two hundred and one, the
one being the birth of a girl two days previously, and
having hastily been graffiti on the population board at the
entrance to the town. It was a cute addition and caused a
chuckle rather than consternation.
Alongside the Boars Head Inn there was a
butcher’s shop with all manner of quaint delicacies, like
pork pies and interestingly flavored sausages,
mouth-watering cheeses as well as some beautiful cuts of
fresh meat. On the opposite side of the main street there
was the post office cum general store. A cottage building
covered in overhanging ivy. In front of which was a
wonderful smelling country garden with old fashioned blooms
such as hollyhocks and foxgloves. Anything not provided for
here had to be shipped in from the nearest large town or
city. Families who had lived there for generations often
inhabited old villages like those.
Darcy Grainger grimaced as she stepped
on another boulder, and felt the pain of several blisters
hit hard in her new walking shoes. She made her way gingerly
towards the Inn, where a sign proudly announced home cooked
meals and comfortable rooms for the night. Darcy had set out
from Keswick six hours earlier and was now cursing her
confidence that new boots wouldn’t cause her any problem.
With a glance at the offending items she kicked the gravel
road and bit her lip as sharp pains shot through her feet.
“Ok, so I need to rest up. I’m going
nowhere for the rest of the day.” With a furtive glance
around the small village she smiled. Just like in the
books at home-quaint. Home for Darcy was the mid west
of the United States where they had similar remote towns of
this populous though none this old worldly. The ending of
her long time relationship had prompted her to redefine her
life and take the trip of a lifetime to the United Kingdom.
Her friends had applauded her action but Max her ex had
acrimoniously wanted to know how she could afford such an
expensive vacation. In Darcy’s mind it was just another
reason why she’d sold her most treasured possessions to
afford the trip-to get away from all that was familiar
people and places.
An old man with an ornate walking stick
stood at the entrance of the Inn as she walked up the small
path towards him. He didn’t move. His old tired brown eyes
stared at her intently as she smiled and nodded at the
closed door. Hey I’m about six inches taller than he is
so he can’t intimidate me.He does look kind of intense
though.
“Hi, would you excuse me please.” Darcy
pointed to the entrance.
The old man didn’t waver in his direct
stare, and then he moved slightly to allow her to enter.
“You’re one of them yanks aren’t thee?” his accent soft yet
abrasive, similar to his gnarled features.
Ok, not sure if he thinks that’s
good or bad. “Yeah, I’m from Illinois. Do you know the
US?”
“No. Just remember one thing Yank she’ll
make your life misery if you’re not true in heart.” He moved
away his walking stick click clacking on the pebbles as he
traveled towards the main street.
Darcy moved her head from side to side
as she pondered that. Now isn’t that the truth but it’s
already happened my life was a misery for way too long with
Max. Odd comment though I wonder why he said it. Oh he’s
just an old guy probably still hasn’t gotten over the fact
we helped them win the Second World War.
Her hand went to the worn door knob and
she pushed hard on the sticking wooden door and almost fell
inside the Inn for her efforts. As she did, she saw it was
similar to others she’d seen on her first week of traveling
in similar terrain. The inside, although lit by electricity,
had that aged darkness that old buildings possessed. A
wooden bar was immediately in front of her, probably as old
as the building, which a plaque listed as 1593, was clean
but marked. Makes you wonder just who had drunk at this
very bar three centuries ago. Rows of bottles with a
back light enabling the purchaser to choose his or her
tipple became the main feature. A shiver ran down Darcy’s
back. You don’t get this back in time atmosphere back
home.
She glanced around the low wooden beamed
ceiling area and didn’t see anyone at first then she heard
voices. A man and woman were talking but the accent was so
thick it was hard to understand. You’d think they were
speaking a foreign language instead of English. Taking
a seat at the bar Darcy waited, relishing the scent of old
wood and the sheer impact of being in a place that had
existed longer than the American continent in European
hands.
As she rested her painful feet, lifted
from the ground by the bar stool, she waited patiently for
service. When none came she decided to try calling out. Her
first timid attempts met with little success. Then she tried
again, this time she yelled at the top of her voice, “anyone
here?” A scuffle in the background heralded that her last
attempt had met with some favor.
A man as large as some of the mountains
she’d seen on her travels greeted her with a wide grin. “Now
then Miss what can I do for you? I hope you didn’t have to
wait?”
Darcy liked his look. He was enormous
but his tone was conciliatory but his eyes twinkled.
“No…well…not really…it was only a few moments.”
“What can I do for you love?”
“I’d like a cold beer and do you have
any rooms available please?”
He grinned, “A half or a pint love?”
Darcy liked the twinkle in the man’s
eyes, friendly but not embarrassingly so. “Whatever you’d
have, and do you want to join me?” It was rash, but it
worked. The barman grinned and nodded, pulling then both a
large beer in schooner dimension glasses, as she settled
down to drink hers.
“Thanks love you wanted a room you say?”
“Yes, my feet her killing me I doubt I
can go any further. I came out with new walking shoes.”
Darcy shrugged as she saw the man raise his eyebrows.
He’s probably heard it all before.
“Just the one night I presume?”
“Yeah I think so.” Darcy peered at her
feet. You’d better behave I want to see as much as I can
this will probably be the last time I ever have the chance.
I’m gonna be working the rest of my life to make up for
this. I’ve no cash reserves left -Max ran me dry.
“Leave it with me no problem.” He
grinned and left the bar for the backroom where he’d
entered.
Darcy sat contemplating the things she’d
already seen. Then the old man’s words hit her again as she
speculated on what he could possible mean. Maybe he
reads minds and saw Max in my past! He’s probably a local
legend around here and we tourists are supposed to soak it
all up. With a chuckle she silently added, I did
too.
“Hi, you want a room for the night?” A
pleasant-sounding voice rang out as Darcy took a sip of her
beer, before glancing across to the small door at the back
of the bar. A broad shouldered woman with ruddy cheeks and a
ready smile looked directly at her.
“Sure, if you have one that would be
good.” Darcy replied and felt her lips tug involuntary into
a smile matching the one from the woman.
The woman who was either slightly
younger than her or about the same age, not that she was a
good judge of ages, cocked her head to one-side. “We don’t
have many American’s stay the night or even pop in for a
look around the village-we’re off the beaten track.”
Darcy shook her head wryly, “I can vouch
for that, my feet are covered in blisters that’s how they
feel anyway.”
There was an attractive peel of laughter
that had Darcy give the average looking woman another quick
glance this time with more interest.
“I’m sorry to hear that, why don’t you
let me take a look at your feet when I show you the room.
I’ll come up with an herbal remedy to help you along.”
Darcy was surprised at the easy way the
woman offered her help. Do I want to share my feet with
a stranger? Yeah right get a life Darcy she isn’t after the
rest of your body. “Oh I don’t want to trouble you I
have antiseptic cream and Band-Aids, thanks all the same.”
With a good natured shrug, the woman
grinned. “Well don’t be shy if you find you need extra help
ok. I’m the closest thing to a doctor in this area. When
you’re ready I’ll show you your room. Oh, and don’t let Ben
drink you under the table before dinner. I take it you’ll
want dinner?”
“If it isn’t too much trouble…I can
always.” The rest of her sentence was waved away in a flurry
of a large hand.
“It will be my pleasure to cook for
someone other than the usual crowd. Beef, veggies and
Yorkshire pudding, or chicken pie and veggies with potatoes,
or, I can do you something totally veggie if you’re not a
meat eater? We don’t have an extensive menu haven’t the time
or the volume of trade to make it worthwhile.”
Darcy understood that she’d worked in a
small retro café in her home town catering for the locals
mainly when she was a dental student. “I understand, the
beef sounds tempting.”
“Then the beef it shall be.” The woman
wandered back through the small door and disappeared from
view.
With a feeling of having accomplished
something today, even if it was simply finding a place to
stay and a meal for the night, she grinned. It could
have been worse. I might have been stranded on a hilltop, my
feet refusing to move another inch, and had to sleep in the
open. The man who had served her earlier pulled up a
chair alongside hers at the empty bar and took a large
draught of his beer.
“Tempest, sort you out then love?” His
thickly accented voice made it hard to understand him unless
you listened intently.
“Yes, well at least she will when I’ve
finished my drink.” Darcy took another swig of the ale,
pleasantly surprised at how much she was enjoying the
beverage.
“Aye she’ll take care of you have no
fear. We don’t get many American’s around these parts. It’s
mainly the odd hiker who has their accommodations on their
backs.”
Darcy lifted a puzzled brow at the
comment. “On their back?”
The man called Ben laughed heartily. “A
tent love…these days everyone seems prepared. Not like in
the old days when we used to have our fair share of visitors
who used to stay for a night or two. Back in the days of the
stagecoach there used to be a roaring trade especially in
the winter. Now, transport is so good and people are so busy
they seem to miss out small places like us. You’d think we
were like that Brigadoon place. Aye the tales we’d tell if
that were the case.”
Darcy listened to the man and didn’t say
anything for it was good to have someone talking in her
company. She’d spent the past three weeks virtually alone
the hotels she’d booked that were bustling with people but
remarkably solitary for one on their own. This place had a
different feel about it.
“…we do have a resident ghost do you
want to hear about it? Not that I’m the best one to tell
this story…old Marylebone Jacobs is, but he won’t be back
until six.”
Darcy pricked up her ears to that
particular storyline. “I’m interested sure…go ahead tell me,
please.”
“My name’s Ben Bones by the way and you
are?” He held his sinewy hand out that she clasped and
shook.
“Darcy Grainger.” When the man released
her hand, she was pleased that it didn’t feel like it has
been inside a mangle. Some men and women never knew
their own strength.
About to begin his story, the barkeep
heard a shout from the back about a delivery. “I’ll tell you
the story later then. I must be off young Cliff from the
butcher’s doesn’t like to stick around. He’s got an eye for
the pretty girls and you can’t blame him for that.”
“No problem. I need to check into the
room.” Darcy wouldn’t have minded hearing the ghost story
but the temptation to soak her feet in a hot tub was equally
as persuasive.
With a nod, the man smiled and left.
Seconds later, the woman called Tempest shot back into the
bar area. “Ben tells me you’re ready to look at your room.”
Ten minutes later Darcy was ensconced in
a comfortable if cramped room. A common occurrence she’d
found in England-lack of space in the rooms. Oh well, she
couldn’t complain she at least at a bathroom, not much
bigger than her walk in wardrobe at home but it had the
essential shower, toilet and basin. It’s not like I’m
staying forever.
On the bedside table she found a sachet
and looked at it carefully, a note scrawled on the side
read… Soak the towels in this mixture and wrap them
around your feet for an hour you’ll feel the difference I
promise. T
“What the hell,” Darcy carefully
extracted her feet from the boots and peeled back her socks,
grimacing as the wool stuck to the blisters. Swearing at the
agony, it would have made a sailor proud, she finally looked
down at her feet. Each one had at least two blisters and one
of them looked angry and inflamed.
An hour later, having done exactly what
the note asked, she felt the pain easing as she lay on the
bed contemplating her current predicament. Dinner was at
seven, which left her another two hours to kill. Shower
and change will take me all of half an hour. My hair is so
short so I hardly need to spend much time grooming it. It
will probably take me longer to get down those convoluted
stairs especially if I can’t find something comfortable to
wear.
With a sigh she hauled herself off the
narrow bed, it was a supposed double room, and on the
opposite side wall was a duplicate narrow bed. How they
expected folks of my generous proportions to have a good
night sleep defeats me. Darcy wandered over to her
knapsack and withdrew some fresh items of clothing, neatly
smoothing them on the bed she wasn’t going to use. Then she
glanced out of the window. It gave a view of the courtyard
at the back of the Inn. Darcy cursed the blinkered view she
had as she saw the flowing multicolored dress Tempest had
been wearing float by. From the angle, Darcy only saw the
hem and the flax like sandals, clip along the cobble stoned
yard. Ah well, I’ll thank her later.
With yet another sigh she pondered going
back to the bar. Nope I don’t want anyone to think I’m a
drinker, not that it really matters what anyone thinks. I
might go down earlier in hopes that I’ll hear that ghost
story…it might be interesting.
A chill went down her back as she
thought about the story, and she glanced around the room the
hairs on her forearm sticking up. Whoa it’s gone cold in
here. I suppose these old places are drafty, it
must cost a fortune to heat.
Reaching inside her knapsack, she
withdrew a sweater and pulled it on. Then sank back down on
the bed and began to read the paperback she’d been carrying
around for three weeks. Once more she reached inside the
knapsack and pulled out the novel, an Anthology of classic
British Ghost Stories. Another blast of cold hit her and
this time Darcy shot up from her prone position on the
narrow bed. “Now that’s real creepy. I think I’ll take that
shower and go downstairs. It’s got to be warmer than this
room. Maybe I’ll ask for a different room or extra
blankets.”
+ + +
“Why Tempest Summerfield, I’d never have
thought you had it in you!” Darcy smiled as she heard the
quip from an elderly woman who was leaning at the bar,
obviously in conversation with the barmaid. For a few
moments she glanced around and noticed several people in
various corners of the room, and one or two at the bar. They
gave her a cursory glance but then continued with their own
conversations or contemplations.
Walking up to the bar, Darcy smiled at
Tempest who gave her a wink in return.
“I’ll be with you in a minute Miss
Grainger.”
“Sure no problem, take your time, I can
wait.”
“Now there’s a thing Lily, if you had
half the manners our current guest has you’d not be asking
about my love life.” There was a chortle of laughter from
several customers within earshot.
Darcy not prone to flush did just that,
and then walked towards a painting of a country scene on the
wall beside the bar to prevent her surprising reaction being
noticed. As her eyes glanced at first idly over the scene
she found herself drawn to the picture, the era was actually
not as old as she would have anticipated. A vintage looking
car, at least a thirties-forties model was passing a field
where several laborers were lounging on a haystack along
with several women they were indulging in a good old
fashioned picnic. In the distance the village, at least she
presumed it was the village of Massem, appeared in the
background.
Darcy almost shot out of her skin as a
voice invaded her preoccupation.
“Now what can I get you Miss Grainger?”
Tempest asked her in a low voice that had a sexy ring that
made a shiver go down Darcy’s spine.
“Hi, I thought maybe a glass of white
wine before dinner.” Darcy was still coming to terms with
the voice sending a shiver down her back. At least it’s
from a much better reason than in my room earlier.
“Hmm we don’t have much call for wine
but I’m sure I can find a bottle in the cellar, it’ll be
Hobson’s choice I’m afraid.” Tempest smiled warmly as she
turned away in search of her quest.
Darcy frowned. “Hobson’s choice?”
With a tinkle of laughter the larger
woman shook her head. “Aye you’ll probably not understand
that. There won’t be much choice I’m afraid, what I find is
what you can have basically.”
“Gotcha, it really doesn’t matter I can
have a beer.”
Tempest placed a hand on her shoulder.
“Out of the question, a wine you ordered and wine you shall
have. Ben might ask you to polish off the whole bottle.
Though I’m partial myself so I could help you out there.”
Darcy didn’t answer as Tempest moved
like lightening and disappeared behind the door of the bar.
Things are looking up. She ambled across to the bar
just as the old man who she’d almost bumped into earlier in
the day arrived at the bar. He gave her a quick appraisal
and then nodded silently, acknowledging her presence.
Ben Bones gave her a jolly smile and
placed a jug of dark ale in front of the old man. “There you
go Marylebone, you’re usual.”
The old man gave the barman a similar
nod and drank thirstily from the dark liquid, the froth on
top of the beer settling on his upper lip, which he savored
by collecting with his tongue, his eyes gleaming at the
sensations.
Darcy managed to stifle a giggle as a
thought hit her. He looks like he enjoys beer more than
sex.Not that I know what he’d look like during sex- dumb
thought, mind in the gutter. Then, as she became the
target of several pairs of eyes, she dragged herself from
her ridiculous thoughts. Oh crap what did I miss?
“Isn’t that right Miss.” Ben Bones was
staring right at her and she’d definitely missed the point.
With a perplexed frown she inclined her
head. “Sure,” she said waiting to see what indent that would
make, barely a ripple it appeared.
Ben turned to the old man. “See there
you old coot I told you she wants to hear about our resident
ghost.” A groan went up in the bar from those that heard the
content of the conversation.
Darcy was then transfixed by piercing
gray eyes, it was quite disconcerting and she didn’t know
why, it feels like he’s seeing into my soul.
“That’s right sir, Mr. Bones was going to relate the story
earlier, but he mentioned that the story was better told by
an expert.” Yep that worked. I’m glad we didn’t have
time to talk over several subjects earlier. I could have
looked a fool. She saw the gray eyes sparkle at her
compliment.
With a throaty cough the old man pulled
his stool closer to the bar and drank another long draught
of his beer, almost draining it.
“Well it’s like this…back in 1941 there
was this Yank.” He turned to look at Darcy waiting for any
reaction. He didn’t see any other than her listening
intently and continued.
“He arrived in the village from the
local airfield, where he was part of the RAF. He’d joined
the war earlier than you folks had generally. Nice looking
chap seemed ok too, name of Richard Smith. Brought in the
odd luxury for a few of us that knew him back then.
Chocolate, brandy, gum that kind of thing. Young Diana the
barmaid here was quite smitten with him, though some said it
was only because he brought her nylons. Anyway, they ended
up falling in love…at least she did. He promised to take her
with him when he transferred to another squadron.
It was a hard thing for a pilot to
promise in those days. Of course, he didn’t take her and she
never forgave him especially when she found herself
pregnant. Back then it was a sin to have a child out of
wedlock. She committed suicide the evening a friend of his
left her a letter. Fell she did from the window of one of
the rooms. They say she walks the corridors most nights and
on the anniversary of that very night she died she’ll appear
in the room she occupied. Some say, if she catches you
without truth in your heart, you’ll not see the morning.”
His tone had been easy and lilting until the final sentence
that held a menacing truth.
At least that was what Darcy felt as she
held her breath. Then a voice whispered in her ear, “Here
take this. Old Marylebone has always been the best
storyteller around these parts. Bless him.”
Tempest placed a white wine in front of
Darcy who smiled her thanks. She thought, if I were in
my own environment I’d think she is coming on to me.
“Thanks, it’s a great story though. This Diana didn’t happen
to have the room I’m staying in, did she?”
Again several pairs of eyes tracked to
her. Tempest enquired, “Why would you say that Miss
Grainger?”
Darcy shrugged and sipped the nice crisp
chardonnay. “No reason, just making conversation I guess.”
No way am I going to admit to thinking that a ghost
might be responsible for the cold room. Crap that means I
can’t ask for more blankets now. I’ll feel foolish.
“Are you sure?” Marylebone Jacobs asked
quietly. “You know if you don’t have truth in your heart you
might not see tomorrow. It’s the anniversary of that very
day the poor child took her and her unborn child’s lives.”
Darcy felt the hairs stand up at the
back of her neck. Now I want to leave this place
altogether. “I’m not lying, merely making an enquiry.”
Ben Bones gave a hearty laugh. “Now then
Marylebone don’t you go upsetting our visitor. It’s been a
while, as you know, since we last had a paying guest.” He
turned away to serve others who had arrived at the bar.
“Aye well it’s true even if some of you
youngsters don’t believe me.” The old man peered at the
bottom of his empty glass.
“Would you care to join me in a drink,”
Darcy said. “I appreciated the story thank you. It’s
sometimes lonely on this type of vacation. It’s great that
you shared the story with me.”
Darcy wasn’t sure if it was the offer of
the drink or the sincere words but the man cheered up. Then
with a ready smile, accepted her offer and began to tell her
tales of when he was a lad.
+ + +
The whole day as it ended had a surreal
nature about it. As Darcy navigated the winding stairway to
her room, she figured it might have something to do with the
copious amount of alcohol she’d imbibed.
After her generous offer of a drink
she’d barely had to pay for anything else. Several other
regulars gave their versions of living in the valley and as
they did they had Ben Bones or Tempest pour her a drink on
them. Lively, friendly, and downright enjoyable, was her
version of the evening’s events.
After spending ten minutes in the
bathroom Darcy emerged with clean teeth in boxer shorts and
T-shirt and climbed into the narrow bed. A fresh set of
small towels and a note on her bedside. How did I miss
those?
Reading the note she smiled. Place
the salve on the towels and wrap them around your feet, put
socks on if you can’t keep them in place. By tomorrow your
feet will be able to walk a twenty-mile hike. T
With a smile still beaming, Darcy did as
the note suggested. As she lay back in the bed, her head
almost was touching the headboard and her feet dangling off
the end. Oh well, the socks will keep my feet warm,
was her final thoughts. The earlier trepidation she had
about the room and the story of the ghost of Diana had
receded into background as sleep beckoned her.
+ + +
A distance sound called to Darcy in her
sleep not certain it wasn’t part of a dream. However, the
more she concentrated on the sound the louder the wailing
became. With a shudder down her spine, she shot bolt upright
from her prone position, and glanced around.
Darkness veiled any chance she had of
seeing anything clearly. Just as she was about to settle
back down to sleep she heard the soft whimpering of a woman
or child-perhaps. Shaking her head, she tried to peer
through the thin veil of darkness but to no avail. It
must be something or someone in another room Darcy
thought as she ran fingers over her eyes. She contemplated
going to the bathroom but a draft of cold air similar to
what she felt earlier but much more intense, made her shiver
and she decided to stay put. Reaching for the switch for the
bedside light, she thought why I didn’t think of that
before is beyond me. A mist of pale light from the lamp
filtered beside her bed and she groaned when she picked up
her wristwatch. “Darn, I’ve only been in bed an hour.”
She had the shock of her life as a
gentle lilting voice with an accent similar to ones she’d
heard earlier spoke to her. “Aye at last you’ve returned.
I’ve waited to hear your voice for a long time now. Come my
love it’s time to join me again.”
“Who’s there?” Darcy’s voice wobbled, as
she tentatively asked her question. Unsure what to expect
exactly, her eyes scanned the small room. Probably some
of the locals playing a trick on me…yeah, I’m sure that’s
what it is.
A whimper, similar to the one that she’d
heard earlier, drew her eyes hypnotically to the other bed.
At the bottom, a tiny figure was huddled making the features
unrecognizable. “You don’t remember me my love, is that why
you left me for so long? I said I would wait and wait I
have.”
Darcy, hypnotically drawn to the voice,
felt the pull of the unknown. Even as the sensible part of
her felt like screaming for help. The other part,
desperately wanted to help ease the pain of the sorrowful
lamenting voice that called to her. “I’m sorry but you have
me mistaken for someone else. I don’t know you.”
The reed like voice echoed around Darcy.
“It is as they said…you no longer want me in your life. I
cannot believe that you would be so cruel that you would
send a friend with your message instead of facing me as a
gentleman.”
Darcy held her tongue as well as her
voice when she realized that the voice wasn’t exactly
speaking to her directly but reliving of the situation.
Is this the ghost of Diana? Who else can it be? Darcy
chided herself silently. Its way to good to be a prank,
but at the same time, do I believe in ghosts?
“You have no words to speak for yourself
Richard?” the voice whipped inside Darcy’s conscious mind.
Lost for words, Darcy swallowed hard
then replied cautiously, “I’m sorry I’m not Richard, perhaps
if you tell me where he is I could locate him for you?”
Crap what a thing to say! Think woman think. Maybe I really
do need to shout for help or something. Nope, I
don’t want the others calling me the crazy yank!
“Richard, Richard, Richard, I loved you
and gave you everything and this is how you betray me.
Where, are your sweet words of love? Am I no longer your
sweetheart of the Isles?” the voice wailed as the huddled
figure moved quickly toward Darcy.
What Darcy perceived previously as a
fragile form, now loomed menacingly close to her bed. The
pain manifesting in every feature of the ghost’s facial
expression became contorted and ugly. All Darcy could do was
clutch at the bedclothes and hope that what she heard
earlier wasn’t going to happen to her. I told her the
truth I don’t know Richard and I’m not who she thinks I am.
Then the features calmed and the smooth
features of a young woman appeared. Where once there had
been color in the eyes, now they were devoid of any of the
spectrums of light as a dark abyss greeted any brave enough
to stare.
“I shall leave now as I did once before.
Thank you stranger, if you can find my Richard, please tell
him I still wait, I will always wait. If you are true to
this, I shall reward you. ” The ghostly apparition moved
with frighteningly quick speed toward the small window and
with a pitiful wail leapt out of the opening.
Darcy shut her eyes as tight as possible
and felt the tears of fear and pity she’d been holding well
up and leak out. She heard the last of the ghost of Diana
give a terrible cry and then total silence shrouded the
room. In reaction, Darcy pulled the bedclothes over her head
and gasped several breaths to calm her nerves.
The sound of footsteps in the hallway
had Darcy scrambling out of bed and opening her door so
violently that she almost ripped it off the hinges. The
light from the corridor almost had her blinded under its
harsh fluorescent glare. “Hello.”
A familiar tinkle of laughter was the
initial response. “Well hello yourself Miss Grainger. Is
there a problem?”
Darcy closed her eyes, grateful that it
was Tempest and not an apparition in the corridor. “No…no…I
thought I heard something that is all.”
Tempest raised her eyebrows and smiled
as she narrowed her eyes and looked at Darcy’s attire and
then quickly looked at her feet. “I see you took my note
seriously.”
Slightly flustered, Darcy wondered what
she meant before it dawned on her. “Ah, you mean the socks
and stuff.”
“Yes and stuff, Are you ok you look a
bit pale? Did the locals make you drink too much? I told
them you might not be used to drinking as much as they do.”
Tempest moved closer.
Darcy could smell the faint lavender
perfume the woman exuded from Tempest. It smelled almost
natural as if she secreted it from her pores. There you
go again living in a fantasy land because the real world
hurts too much. “I’m fine…at least. No it doesn’t
matter. Goodnight Tempest.”
A large hand reached out and
surprisingly griped Darcy’s forearm gently. “You saw her
didn’t you?”
It was a gentle enquiry and Darcy could
easily have shrugged it away by saying nothing-she didn’t.
Strangely enough, on some level the woman called to her
inner being. “You said you’d join me for a drink, how about
we do that now?”
Tempest gave her a smile of
understanding. “How does hot chocolate sound. I think you
consumed the bottle of wine much to Ben’s appreciation.”
Darcy felt the specter of the ghost
leaving her as the gentle woman drew her away from what she
was now wondering if it had been a dream. “Thanks that would
be great.”
+ + +
Darcy yawned as she sipped the remains
of her hot chocolate as she related the events of her
experience in her room not only an hour before but earlier
as well. Tempest, for her part, listened and occasionally
narrowed her eyes in concentration.
“Thanks for listening. Do you have to do
this every time one of your guests sees the ghost of Diana?”
Darcy said attempting to bring some levity to the
conversion.
“No, this is a first for me,” Tempest
announced gravely.
Blinking rapidly, Darcy stared at the
larger woman, whose features were contemplative as she
sipped her hot chocolate,. “Do you mean you’ve never had a
guest have this experience or that you’re new to this whole
thing too?”
“God no, I’m part of the furniture. I’ve
worked here for over twenty years. Not much around these
parts and initially I needed to take care of my parents.
Then …well I love it here wouldn’t think to live anywhere
else.”
“So you mean no one has ever mentioned
having this experience before… I thought Mr. Jacobs said…”
Tempest grinned. “Oh, old Marylebone
adds bits and pieces to the old story, but it’s a first for
me that anyone has admitted seeing the ghost of Diana.”
Darcy bent her head deep in thought.
Bet she thinks I’m nuts! I am nuts it was a dream fool,
nothing more than a dream and having too much to drink only
increased the experience. “Hey look, I’m tired, thanks
for the drink and the chat. I guess I’ll let you got to
bed,” she said looking at the wall clock. “It’s after one.”
Tempest gave her a long thoughtful look
then nodded. “It was my pleasure. I won’t be here in the
morning when you leave. My shift is the afternoon and every
second evening. I wish you a safe journey to your next
destination Miss Grainger. Maybe you might return one day…we
could do with a dentist in town.”
Darcy stood up. She felt bereft to the
point that it was worse than when Max told her it was over.
She’s not even my type! “Thanks for all your help
Tempest and for the foot remedies. I know I’ll make that
twenty-mile hike yet.”
Tempest held the door open for Darcy and
as she passed through the natural lavender smell of the
woman drew her in again. “Perhaps when you do, you’ll drop
in again,” Tempest said.
Darcy nodded automatically since her
thoughts were in chaos. Heading back up the stairs, the
earlier feelings she had about the stairs, the corridor, and
her room were over-all was at peace.
Settling down in bed again, she sighed.
Maybe I should think about setting up a practice here…it
does feel like home. Those were her final thoughts as
she drifted off to sleep.
+ + +
Darcy awoke to what sounded like birds
singing at the end of her bed. As she opened her eyes, she
rubbed them hard when she saw a clear blue sky above her and
fields all around her. The birds weren’t at the end of her
bed but on the wooden fence a few yards from her position.
That position was her legs outstretched as her back rested
against a wooden signpost. She was out in the open.
Her mind ticked the most likely scenario
of why she was where she was. Ok this has to be a dream.
It was probably the hot chocolate. Thinking it was a
dream she stood up swiftly and immediately wished she
hadn’t. She jolted her back and pain coursed through her
body. Damn, I don’t need pain in a dream. When she
gazed around, the landscape appeared familiar. It was the
entrance to the valley she’d traveled the day before.
Yeah it is all a dream.
Her eyes then cast on the signpost. It
had two directional indicators-the left to Keswick the right
to Threlkeld. Scratching her head, Darcy didn’t understand.
She was certain that the sign the day before had Massem as
the next village.
She looked at her wristwatch and noted
that it was seven. What was more fascinating was that the
date was actually the next day. That’s weird.
The tooting of a horn drew her attention
to a small vehicle approaching and she stepped back to allow
the vehicle to go past her safely. When it drew to a halt,
she blinked in surprise. Ok it’s still a dream, maybe
Melissa Etheridge will be my rescuer. A girl can dream can’t
she?
A young man with a cheerful face
grinned. “Do you need a lift its twenty miles to the next
village.” He smiled and let his eyes do a once over. “You
look kind of disorientated…are you ok? I bet you haven’t had
any breakfast yet?”
Right, what do they say to do to
break a dream pinch yourself…ok let’s try that? She
pinched herself as hard as she could and yelped in response
at the pain in her thigh.
“Are you ok? If you don’t want a lift
that’s fine with me I need to get moving.”
Darcy gazed at him with an expression of
puzzlement. “Sure that sounds good. Yeah, I’m hungry too.
Thanks.”
On the journey to the town of Threlkeld
the young man was chatty especially when he realized she was
an American. On their arrival he deposited her at the Ole
Whistling Kettle café.
This is not quite what I expected.
Ok I can get through this, whatever this is. She pushed
open the door and found she was one of five breakfasting
tourists. An hour later, replete from her traditional
breakfast of bacon, eggs, toast, and something called black
pudding that was quite tasty, she contemplated what was real
and what wasn’t. Ok this is easy I just ask about the
Boars Head Inn.
As the other visitors left, Darcy found
herself alone. When she went to pay her check she asked, “I
was told about a place called the Boars Head Inn, in a
village called Massem that I think is not far from here. Can
you give me directions please?”
The young woman shook her head. “Sorry
I’ve never heard of it. I’ll ask May since she’s lived here
all her life…I’m sure she’ll know.”
The young woman posed the question
briskly to a woman who looked elderly in the backroom. The
woman frowned and stepped forward. “Massem you say? How do
you know of that? The maps you have been using must be old.”
Darcy complimented the old woman’s frown
with one of her own. “I’m sorry. I can assure you the map I
have is up to date. Here see!”
She withdrew the map she had and pointed
in the general direction as the older woman peered at the
creased paper.
“Sorry love, but whoever told you about
Massem must have visited before the war.” The old woman gave
her a kindly look.
“I’m sorry, what do you mean?” Darcy
asked with a crease in her brow.
The old woman gave her a long stare.
“You’ve seen it, haven’t you?”
“What? What exactly have I seen?”
“I thought so for it’s in your eyes.
You’re only the second since it happened and the first was
way back in the sixties. It’s just a ghost town love…it’s
all in memories now. In a bombing run the German’s
obliterated Massem and all who lived there in nineteen forty
four. Would you believe this very morning is the anniversary
of the bombing?” The old woman’s face had a sad expression.
“I once knew a man from Massem…Cliff the butcher’s
assistant. Ah, now those were good times…” the woman said
drifting off into her own memories.
Darcy drew in a breath. So that was
all a dream and this is reality! Or is it? She walked
out of the café and looked down the pebbled main street. Her
eyes drifted back to the direction she’d come. “Was that all
a dream? My feet were aching so much I fell asleep at the
sign and dreamed everything?” she whispered to no one but
the wind. As she walked towards the local library to check
out what she heard in her dream, her thoughts were chaotic.
I’ve never read anything about the place…I didn’t even
know it existed. How could I have dreamt such a thing? Now,
I find out that it is a dead village. This is all so crazy.
It felt so real the place and the people. I need to find out
if those people ever existed. There must be a register
someplace.
As she mounted the stairs to the local
library she looked down at her feet. She moved to a bench
and quickly untied one boot and removed it and the sock came
next…
+ + +
Now readers you might wonder what
happened next.
Simple really Darcy spent many years
researching everything she could about the place. There was
a Ben Bones patron of the boars head inn. There was a
Marylebone Jacobs who lived in the village and a few others
mentioned, even one Tempest Summerfield. They all died in
the obliteration of the village. As with a lot of
traditional folk tales, some are made of fancy while others
steeped in truth. Darcy chose to believe that Massem did
exist for her for those few short hours. She’d even tried,
and successfully found a pilot named Richard Smith.
From what she could garner, Richard died
the day before his friend supposedly took the letter to
Diana. As to what was in that letter, if it ever existed,
said only Diana would ever know. Darcy chose to think that
Richard wrote the letter on the chance that he might die and
wanted Diana to move on with her life.
What makes this story complete, if you
can call it that, when I met Darcy she was an older woman in
her later stages of life. She’d decided this was her last
possible chance to travel again before death and had chosen
this area in the hope of finding Massem again. That was the
woman who shared her story. As we parted company she gave me
her address and said to contact her if I should find
anything on my travels about Massem.
Of course I never did but I wrote her
anyway. Several months passed by without a reply so I
decided to do some checking of my own about Darcy Grainger.
I found that she went missing that same year I met her in
the Lake District in England and then she seemed to have
vanished. Several police searches found no evidence of her
or her belongings. Even when a fellow traveler mentioned the
area she may have visited they found nothing.
I readers, was that fellow traveler. You
may think what you will…I like to think she found that place
called Massem again and they welcomed her home…
Oh did I forget to tell you what the
trigger was that made sense to her after many years of
researching. Under her sock was the linen that Tempest had
given her with the salve on. Embroidered on the linen
was…the Boars Head Inn.
The End