Mother, Dearest.

‘Annie, I’m so sorry, I totally forgot about this weekend. I’m really unwell so I probably couldn’t have made it anyway. If you can wait I’ll help you next weekend I promise. Love you xxx.’

My heart sank, Sarah was unreliable and she does this all the time but I really thought she’d come through this time. I suppose I thought that every time but this time I was hoping it would be different. I knew deep down that our friendship was slipping away, we both led totally different lives but I felt it would be quite a shame to let a near 20 year friendship fade into nothing. It was clear where she stood on it, however, as she was putting less and less effort into her lies. Next weekend would turn into next month and next month would turn into after Christmas. By the time we got round to it, when she had a weekend where she had nothing else to do, my Gran’s old house would be commandeered by rats, bugs and all manor of weeds.

It was now going to be a long, lonely 3 hour drive across the country to Newbiggin and an even lonelier weekend clearing out the house. Part of the reason I’d wanted her to come was that I didn’t want to stay there overnight on my own. It was the creepiest place I’d ever been. Every summer up until I turned 14 I was forced to spend two weeks there while my parents flew off to some tropical destination for a ‘break.’ It wasn’t until I disappeared the night before I was due to be dropped off that my parents took my complaints seriously. I left them a ransom note stating that I was not in trouble and that I was safe at a friends house. I informed them that I would return home the next morning at 11. An hour before they were due to leave for the airport. When I returned the following morning at exactly 11 am my mother was already sat in the passenger seat of the car, as I walked up the drive my father came out of the front door to meet me. He handed me the house key and an envelope and looked at me with sly grin.

‘Your mother is upset, as you can see. She wants to leave early.’ He put his hand on my shoulder. ‘I know you hate going to your grans, quite frankly I don’t blame you. But you’re on your own for two weeks now kid. You’ve got the key, there’s 200 quid in there and that has to last you until we get back. If you starve then that’s on you. And no parties or I will personally deliver you to your grans house and leave you there for a month.’ He hugged me and kissed me on the head then got in the car. My mother didn’t look at me as they backed off the drive.

After a few hours of flicking between podcasts and the radio I pulled onto the narrow country road that led to the house. It hadn’t rained for a few days but somehow the road was thick with wet mud and the many potholes that lined it were filled with brown water. I drove carefully along for about 15 minutes until I rounded the last bend and saw the small tree that stretched over the low stone wall of the front garden. As I drove up the driveway I had to fight every fibre of my being to not reverse out of there and leave the bloody house to rot. Why was I even here? Through some weird sense of loyalty to my mother. A woman that only saw her own mother through proxy, like some old billionaire that can’t be bothered to attend board meetings. She had always refused to go to my grans house and also refused to explain to me why. She left as soon as she was able and moved to the nearest city, soon after she met my father and the rest is history. As far as I could remember the only time she has been back since was to see my grandfather on his deathbed. Even then she refused to stay over.

I got out of the car and tip toed my way around more potholes to the large red front door. I pulled out the large brass key I was sent by the lawyers and opened it, it was made from a thick slab of heavy wood. I had to use my shoulder and put all of my weight into it to push it open. Once inside I struggled to see anything, dusk was arriving outside and the windows were so thick with grime that the little daylight that was left was barely getting through. I pulled out my key ring and turned on my small travel torch when something to the right of me caught the corner of my eye, something moved, I know it did. The painting above the radiator moved it’s head, I swear it did. But it couldn’t have, obviously, it’s a painting. 

My hand were tingling and my heart felt like it was climbing a hill in a spin class. I kept the torch shining on the painting and took a few deep breaths, holding for 4 seconds and then exhaling. The painting did not move Annie. I made my way down the hallway to the main room. I retraced my childhood steps towards the large lamp in the corner of the room. I would sneak down here in the middle of the night and read all of my grandfathers old books. The only thing I actually wanted from this clear out was his original copy of The Lord of the Rings trilogy. I would read it every summer, it was the only thing I looked forward to. 

I found the lamp, I fumbled around with the switch as my hands were still sweaty. When I eventually got it on my heart sank, the bookshelf was empty. There as very little dust on the shelves which means it was recently cleared. As far as I was told, I had the only key so either I was being lied to or someone had broken in. My only hope was that they were in the cupboard at the bottom, I looked in with my pocket torch and was met with spiderwebs. I made to stand up but something stopped me in my tracks, I froze to the spot. My eyes widened to the point where I thought they might fall out. I held my breath, silence surrounded me until I heard it again. It pierced through my chest, I wanted to scream, to heave open the huge door and leave without looking back but something kept me there. I slowly turned around, I tried to silently creep through the room over to the bottom of the large wooden staircase in the middle of the grand hallway but with every step came a creak from the ancient floorboards. Each creak of the floorboards seemed to reverberate up my spine, my head was fizzing. I reached the entrance back into the hallway and I could still hear the laugh, it was coming from upstairs. 

I was drenched with sweat, I could almost feel the drops leaving my pores. My cortisol levels must have been breaking all sorts of records. This is insane, why am I going up the stairs. At the top of the stairs the main bedroom and the bathroom were to the right, on the left was my mothers old bedroom, the bedroom that I inherited during those dreaded summers. I waited at the top and held my breath, listening for the laughter. If this was all a game by some silly country kids they would be lucky to leave with all of their fingers.

After a few seconds I heard it, it was coming from my mothers old room. Enough sneaking about, I leapt up the final stair and burst into the room. Empty, I listened again but the laughter had stopped. I shone the torch around the room, I had to take a second to think back to make sure I was remembering things rights as the room looked totally different to the last time I was here. It had been turned into a shrine for my mother. There was pictures of her everywhere, some with her parents, some with my father. There was one of her holding me as a new born, some with her and friends. All of her old toys were dotted around the room on shelves and draws. Old medals and school certificates were stuck to the walls. I didn’t understand, why would my grandmother do this, my mother always told me she was cold and distant, never showed any real affection. I always believed her as that was exactly how she was with me. This made no sense, but who else would do it if it wasn’t her.

I picked up a photo of my mother as a baby, I looked exactly like her at that age. I almost had time to form a smile before being shocked so much I dropped the picture and smashed the glass. Bright lights were flashing in through the window, almost as if someone was speaking morse code. I made my way over to the window and saw that the light was coming from the headlights of my car. Shit, I must’ve left them on, I hope the battery isn’t going flat. I rummaged around in my pockets for my keys until I realised I had them in my hand as I was using the pocket torch. 

I made to turn around when I felt an ice cold hand grip the back of my neck, I swung my arm around violently elbow first hoping to connect hard with whoever had grabbed me. I didn’t connect so I swung my arms around hoping to land any sort of blow, just enough for me to create some space and get out. I swung and kicked but hit nothing, there was no one there. I shook my head and repeated the same breathing exercises as I had performed in front of the painting downstairs before walking over to the door. I need to leave now, and I do mean now. 

‘Don’t leave me Annie.’ My fingers froze around the door handle as if it was covered in super glue. ‘Please don’t leave me Annie, stay here and play with me.’ 

I shone the torch up to where I heard the voice, I tried to scream, I had to scream, if I didn’t scream my head was going to explode. My mother was sat up in her bed clutching her childhood doll.

‘Don’t go out there, if you go out there you’ll die. I don’t want you to die Annie, I want you to stay here with me forever.’

The scream finally left me, it left me with more force than anything I have ever felt in my life. The whole room seemed to shake, I screamed until every last breath had left my lungs then I threw open the door so hard it almost came off it’s hinges. I sprinted down the stairs jumping down the last four. I reached the front door, I hadn’t locked it when I’d came in so I twisted the large brass handle and pulled. I couldn’t use my weight to push it open this time so I opened it as far as I could then squeezed my fingers into the opening so I could have a better grip on the door to pull.

I heard the laughter again, it was getting louder, which meant it was getting closer. ‘Annie don’t be silly, you’ll die out there. Stay with me.’

I pulled and pulled, I eventually put my foot in the gap and pushed the door back with my heel. Once there was enough space I squeezed through then sprinted over to my car, swinging the door open then diving in. I turn the key once, twice, on the third time it worked. I put it into gear, ripped the hand break down, span around and drove straight through the closed gate.

‘The casualty has been identified as Annie Jones after her car skidded off a country road and collided head on with a tree. The incident is made even more tragic as she had been driving back home after visiting her late grandmother’s house to deal with her estate due to the tragic deaths of her Mother and Father the previous year. Our thoughts go out to her close friends and family at the unfortunate time.’