Fettigrew Hall - The Biography of a House

Fettigrew Hall - Chapter 7

Chapter 7

September 1999

The chilly September wind swirled around Meghan as she opened the pub door. She looked around for Andrew. Not seeing him, she stepped up to the bar and ordered a pint. She was not in the best of moods. Her editor had insisted she write an article for All Hallows Eve, and though she had argued with him, she hadn’t been able to change his mind. This kind of silly reporting made her steaming mad. She didn’t think any of the men who worked with her would ever have been asked to do this. She resented this assignment big time but she really had no choice.

‘Well, damn it,’ she had thought. ‘If I have to do this, it is going to be on my terms and my subject.’ Maybe she could write something scary and something real. Ghosts were always a good grabber. That is when she had remembered that a house near where she grew up was supposed to be haunted. It had been ages since she had even thought of the place, but she was pretty sure it hadn’t even been occupied for decades. After doing some research, she had found an old article from the archives of her own paper that spoke about the history of the house. It would be fun to go visit and see if it was spooky. Maybe she’d even see a ghost.

That is when she had decided she would talk Andrew into going with her to do the exploring. Andrew was so besotted with her – again – that he would do anything for her, any time. He had followed her around like a puppy when a teenager, and she was sure she had broken his heart when she moved away and married Rick. Since her divorce she had drifted back to her old haunts and hooked up again with Andrew. He really was so easy to play with. Since she had slept with him, he had been too attentive. But sometimes that came in handy. Anyway, she could get him to do anything, especially if she sulked or cried.

Andrew had agreed to go with her, but he was late, and it was getting closer to sunset. She looked around the pub again. More people were starting to come in after work. Across the room were two nice looking men sitting at a table. She turned around and stared at them. They smiled at her, so she got up and walked to their table.

When Andrew arrived, Meghan was engaged in deep conversation, leaning provocatively against one of the men. Tight lipped, he asked, “Meghan, are you ready to go? It is getting late.”

“Well, darling, the fact that it is getting late is entirely your fault. I didn’t think you were interested any more, and I was just about to ask these handsome guys to go with me.”

“We would be happy to accompany you, my lady,” one of them said.

“Meghan, I’m sorry I was late, really. But let’s get going.”

“Sorry, Lovies,” she said, “I’ll see you next Friday, okay?”

With that she unwound herself from the guy she had been leaning on, grabbed her purse and coat, and swaying her hips a bit, headed for the door. Andrew was furious with jealousy but he knew telling her that would just start an argument he would never win. He started his car and took off down the lane towards the house, while Meghan went on about the very nice and handsome guys in the bar.

Andrew drove to the gate of the property, following the lane up to the gate house. They found they couldn’t get in that way, so they walked along the moat until they came to a bridge spanning the stagnant water. Crossing over the bridge they passed the old castle tower and came to the back of the house. Eventually they found the kitchen door ajar. Meghan squeezed through the opening and urged Andrew to follow her.

The kitchen sure wasn’t much to look at, but it led to a large paneled room, which led into another open room. Eventually they came to stairs that they followed up to another large room. Doors on either side led to other rooms. The back of one had inside shutters that were partly open and looked down onto the back of the house, where the wasteland of a former garden was.

Andrew had never thought this was a good idea, but Meghan had begged and made promises he couldn’t resist. Now he had little to say, but he finally burst out with, “Damn it, Meghan, why do you always do that? You are such a prick teaser!”

This was definitely the wrong thing to say to Meghan, and she retorted with, “Andrew, who do you think you are? You have no claim on me, and I’ll do whatever I choose.”

“Meghan, you are my girl, and you are sleeping with me. You did this before with Rick and a few others. Why can’t you just be faithful? You know I love you, you know I’ve always wanted to marry you. It killed me when you left with Rick. I thought you came back to me this time because you realized I was the one you wanted and always have. You are wearing the locket I gave you. I must mean something to you.”

“Oh really, Andrew. Just because we have some fun together and have occasional sex doesn’t mean anything. Lighten up. You are so tedious sometimes.”

Andrew wasn’t sure if he was mad or crushed by this rejection. Without further thought he turned around and left the room, nearly running. He slammed the door, turning the key in the lock and putting it in his pocket. He ran through the house and through the ruined garden, all the while hearing Meghan’s enraged screaming. He could hear her banging on the window as he crossed the bridge, but he didn’t turn and look back. By the time he had reached his car, he was out of breath. He started the car and turned on the heat. It had gotten very cold since they had arrived. He sat there heaving and trying to get himself under control. Finally realizing that he had been out of control, he knew he had to go back and release Meghan.

He trudged back around the house to the bridge, knowing that Meghan was going to be impossibly angry. This wasn’t going to be a good scene at all, but it was his own fault for saying anything to her. He knew she had an impossible temper. She was spoiled and willful. Pulling the key from his pants he turned the door knob and walked into the room. It was completely silent. He had brought his torch and shown it around the room.

“Meghan, I’m sorry, come on, let’s get out of here.” There was no answer. Just like her to now play some sort of trick, he thought. “Meghan, I’m not kidding, let’s go. It has gotten very dark, and it is quite cold now.” Still no answer at all.

The windows at the back were not open, and the shutters had not been disturbed. The fireplace looked untouched. He could not imagine where she was or any way she could have gotten out. She was probably hiding, but he couldn’t find where. He went through most of the house continuing to call her but got no answer. Thinking she might have gone back to the car, he finally went back, but she was not there. He really didn’t know what to do now, as he had a rising feeling of panic. She obviously didn’t want to go back with him. She could take the path back to the village and get there in about twenty minutes, if she chose to. Okay, if that was the way she wanted it, he would leave her to her own devices. He started his car, heading home, a bit bewildered, angry and also hurt.

That was the last he ever saw of Meghan. In fact, it was the last anyone ever saw of her.

.........

To Meghan it seemed that she awoke – or perhaps it would be became conscious – very slowly. In the darkness she, at first, could see nothing. There was a searing pain in her head and her whole body hurt especially her leg and shoulder. She couldn’t move. She was too confused and too out of it to really be afraid. As she tried to determine where she was and what had happened to her, she realized she was becoming angry. She was frustrated at her situation but she was also angry. Very angry. Why was that? She wondered. Slowly she began to take command of her memory and she realized that she was furious with Andrew. Trying to piece this fragment together, she could remember that they had a screaming match. What was it about? She couldn’t quite remember. And then she began to fade into unconsciousness again.