111 West End

Chapter Seventeen: The Agent

Fifteen Years Earlier,

According to the parish clerk, Miss Louise Walker was a local historian and genealogist and the most reliable source of information regarding 111 West End.

"Good morning, Mr Goldman." Miss Walker greeted him inside the town's library. 

Middle-aged with glasses, she wore an oversized grey cardigan, and beige slacks, and looked exactly how Ben imagined.

"Miss Walker, thanks for meeting with me."

The historian smiled. "So, you're the new owner of West End? I wondered who had taken on that house."

Ben frowned at the woman. "What does that mean?"

  Miss Walker raised an eyebrow. "Nobody has lived there longer than a year. It's empty more often than it's lived in."

"Great," Ben muttered. "Pity no one told me. Before I ploughed a small fortune into it."

"Well, they wouldn't, would they? "

"Shall we sit?" Ben gestured to a table by the library window.

Miss Walker nodded and sat opposite him.

"What can you tell me about my house?" Ben tapped the desk impatiently.

Miss Walker flicked through her papers. "In 1689, they built the first house. I don't have records of who 'they' were." She shrugged. "I believe the front of 111 West End dates back to then, although it's very difficult to verify the exact dates or the owners. Records are sketchy until the first census of 1801. We have evidence of major alterations to the house in 1798 by a textile mill owner, Mr Frederick Shaw."

"I didn't realise it was that old."

Miss Walker slid the paper in front of Ben and tapped the dates with her fingernail. "It's right there."

"Then what?"

"Within two years, and after accumulating a vast fortune, Mr Shaw sold 111 West End to Doctor Arthur Bennet who became the town's surgeon. He lived there with his wife until 1824."

"What happened to the doctor?"

Miss Walker sighed. "Unfortunately, this is where the house's history takes a turn for the worse. In the 1800s, there was an outbreak of scarlet fever. Do you know much about scarlet fever, Mr Goldman?"

Ben shook his head.

"Nowadays it's treated with antibiotics. But in the 1800s, it was often fatal for children. The town lost almost an entire generation of children. If you visit the churchyard, you will see row after row of headstones. It's so terribly sad." Miss Walker sniffed and continued. "Doctor Bennet was the only doctor for miles. He covered an area that, even by today's standards, would be vast. Most of his patients lived in rural areas. Often remote areas. So he would treat the very sick in his own home. The epidemic lasted for years with dreadful consequences for Doctor Arthur Bennet."

Ben frowned. "What consequences?"

"Mr Goldman, he suffered a breakdown. The stress was greater than anyone could handle."

Ben clenched his hands until his nails dug into his palms, knowing what Miss Walker would say next and praying he was wrong.

Miss Walker cleared her throat. "Doctor Arthur Bennet was a good man. A credit to his profession... but on the evening of the 24th of September 1824, while his wife visited her sister, he took his own life."

Ben could barely breathe. "How?"

"He hung himself from the stairs."

An icy cold ran from his head to his toes.

"Are you feeling okay, Mr Goldman?" Miss Walker asked. "You've gone very pale."

"I-I'm fine. It is... I am..." Ben searched for the words to express how he felt but failed. "It's awful."

"That's history for you. It most often is."