Read Online Terrible Tide by Charlotte MacLeod - Free Book Online
Authors: Charlotte MacLeod
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no longer hide her yawns.
“I’m sorry, Annie, but I’ve got to get some sleep.”
“I expect we should both go to bed,” Annie sighed. “I can’t say I relish the notion.”
“Why not?”
The old woman lifted a stove lid, poked at dull red embers with the cast-iron lifter, thrust in two more chunks of hardwood, fiddled with the dampers. “There, I guess that ought to hold overnight. We used to burn coal, but Earl Stoodley’s too cheap to buy us any these days. I do hate coming down to a cold stove in the morning when my tongue’s hanging out for a good, hot cup of tea. Don’t you?”
She took off her dirty apron and hung it with exaggerated care on a hook behind the pantry door while Holly waited, none too patiently. At last Annie wiped her palms down the front of her faded print dress and confessed, “The plain truth of the matter is, I’m scared.”
“Because of those noises you were talking about to Mr. Stoodley? You don’t honestly believe it’s ghosts, do you?”
“Dearie, I don’t know what to believe, and that’s the God’s honest truth. I don’t imagine those noises. I hear them as plain as I can hear that pretty voice of yours, and you needn’t start reminding me everybody hears funny sounds at night in old houses. I’ve lived in this house long enough to know every squeak and groan it’s ever made. These noises are different.”
“How different?”
The best I can describe it is like somebody padding around in shoepacs or moccasins. Sometimes I hear them downstairs, sometimes up attic, sometimes it seems to be right in the room next to where I’m lying. Sometimes it’s just the footsteps I hear, other times it’s bumping noises like furniture being moved around.”
Holly raised her eyebrows. “You don’t suppose it could be ordinary flesh-and-blood burglars?”
“Dearie, I may be an old fool but I’m not a damn fool, as Bert would say. Naturally that was the first thing I thought of. But when I get up the next morning and check around, everything’s the same as I left it the night before. I’ve got Earl Stoodley up here with that inventory list of his more than once, and nothing’s ever been missing far’s we can make out. The doors and windows are always locked. I’ve gone around to every crack and cranny, but there’s never any sign of breaking in, and why should anybody do that anyway if it wasn’t to steal? So, if it isn’t ghosts, what is it, eh?”
“I don’t know, Annie.” Holly yawned again. “But whatever it is, I’ll hear it too, and we can compare notes in the morning.”
“But it might not happen tonight. Sometimes weeks go by and I don’t hear anything out of the ordinary. Lately it’s been coming more often, though. I couldn’t tell you how many times I’ve gone down those stairs with a poker in my fist and my heart in my mouth.”
“You mean you’ve actually gone chasing after the sounds?”
“Of course, dearie. I’m not that much of a coward. What scares me most of all is when I can’t. Nowadays it seems every time I hear something and try to get out, the door to my bedroom sticks shut. It’s like those nightmares where somebody’s chasing after you and you can’t budge hand or foot. Yet the door isn’t locked because I keep the key. And the next morning I can open it easily enough. It’s as if there’s a spell on it.”
“Do you normally sleep with your door shut?”
“Always, ever since I came here. Aunt Maude made me. She was afraid Uncle Jonathan might be going to the bathroom in his nightshirt, see, and it wouldn’t be nice if I should happen to wake up and see him.”
“Who was Aunt Maude? I thought Mrs. Parlett’s name was Mathilde.”
“Uncle Jonathan married twice. Aunt Maude was the first. She wasn’t really my aunt, just my mother’s cousin, but it sounded more respectful to call her Aunt Maude. Anyway, as I say, I always shut my door but I never used to lock it. You can bet your bottom dollar I do now,
“I’m sorry, Annie, but I’ve got to get some sleep.”
“I expect we should both go to bed,” Annie sighed. “I can’t say I relish the notion.”
“Why not?”
The old woman lifted a stove lid, poked at dull red embers with the cast-iron lifter, thrust in two more chunks of hardwood, fiddled with the dampers. “There, I guess that ought to hold overnight. We used to burn coal, but Earl Stoodley’s too cheap to buy us any these days. I do hate coming down to a cold stove in the morning when my tongue’s hanging out for a good, hot cup of tea. Don’t you?”
She took off her dirty apron and hung it with exaggerated care on a hook behind the pantry door while Holly waited, none too patiently. At last Annie wiped her palms down the front of her faded print dress and confessed, “The plain truth of the matter is, I’m scared.”
“Because of those noises you were talking about to Mr. Stoodley? You don’t honestly believe it’s ghosts, do you?”
“Dearie, I don’t know what to believe, and that’s the God’s honest truth. I don’t imagine those noises. I hear them as plain as I can hear that pretty voice of yours, and you needn’t start reminding me everybody hears funny sounds at night in old houses. I’ve lived in this house long enough to know every squeak and groan it’s ever made. These noises are different.”
“How different?”
The best I can describe it is like somebody padding around in shoepacs or moccasins. Sometimes I hear them downstairs, sometimes up attic, sometimes it seems to be right in the room next to where I’m lying. Sometimes it’s just the footsteps I hear, other times it’s bumping noises like furniture being moved around.”
Holly raised her eyebrows. “You don’t suppose it could be ordinary flesh-and-blood burglars?”
“Dearie, I may be an old fool but I’m not a damn fool, as Bert would say. Naturally that was the first thing I thought of. But when I get up the next morning and check around, everything’s the same as I left it the night before. I’ve got Earl Stoodley up here with that inventory list of his more than once, and nothing’s ever been missing far’s we can make out. The doors and windows are always locked. I’ve gone around to every crack and cranny, but there’s never any sign of breaking in, and why should anybody do that anyway if it wasn’t to steal? So, if it isn’t ghosts, what is it, eh?”
“I don’t know, Annie.” Holly yawned again. “But whatever it is, I’ll hear it too, and we can compare notes in the morning.”
“But it might not happen tonight. Sometimes weeks go by and I don’t hear anything out of the ordinary. Lately it’s been coming more often, though. I couldn’t tell you how many times I’ve gone down those stairs with a poker in my fist and my heart in my mouth.”
“You mean you’ve actually gone chasing after the sounds?”
“Of course, dearie. I’m not that much of a coward. What scares me most of all is when I can’t. Nowadays it seems every time I hear something and try to get out, the door to my bedroom sticks shut. It’s like those nightmares where somebody’s chasing after you and you can’t budge hand or foot. Yet the door isn’t locked because I keep the key. And the next morning I can open it easily enough. It’s as if there’s a spell on it.”
“Do you normally sleep with your door shut?”
“Always, ever since I came here. Aunt Maude made me. She was afraid Uncle Jonathan might be going to the bathroom in his nightshirt, see, and it wouldn’t be nice if I should happen to wake up and see him.”
“Who was Aunt Maude? I thought Mrs. Parlett’s name was Mathilde.”
“Uncle Jonathan married twice. Aunt Maude was the first. She wasn’t really my aunt, just my mother’s cousin, but it sounded more respectful to call her Aunt Maude. Anyway, as I say, I always shut my door but I never used to lock it. You can bet your bottom dollar I do now,
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