Dad was taking this pretty well, considering something like this was out of the ordinary, fiction becoming reality. We all looked at Eliza once more, anticipating an answer.
"If my husband were to see this with his very own eyes then I know for certain that he would believe. I for one didn't and look where I am today."
Dad stroked his day old stubble chin. "And how do you plan to bring him here, let's assume your husband actually wants to come."
"We'll make him believe," said Helene, her voice defiant, finding her courage. She frantically arrived at the vault and looked expectedly at me. "You ought to come with us."
"My sister ain't going alone," said Ryder, moving his way towards me.
"Hang on a minute." Dad asserted. "There's no way I'm letting you two go in. It should be me."
"Wait," I said, peeking in. "Did you leave the vault door open from your side?" Eliza briefly thought. Helene nodded after a while. "What about the bedroom door?"
"I closed the door," said Helene, "but it's not locked."
"So anyone could just waltz in and shut it." I peered inside, thankful to see the rope hovering. I hoped this was a good sign. "Right I'm going in. Helene, lead the way. Someone needs to be on the other side."
Dad put a hand on my shoulder. "I can't let you go on your own. You don't know what's there."
"Neither did them when they crossed over." I point out.
His shoulders slouched. "Fine, but you better be careful." He hugs me, the tightest hug imaginable. He then held Ryder by the shoulders. "I mean it son, you better be alert and look after her."
"I won't let you down."
Eliza hugged her daughter close. "Don't be afraid, my darling."
Helene climbed in, yanking the rope taught. She slipped in, followed by Ryder.
I turn to Eliza and dad. "Keep an ear out. I'll find the walkie talkie. Dad knows how to work it. I'll bring him back."
Helene landed on her bottom. Ryder landed on his face, misjudging the distance. I slipped through, stumbling over the two. I stared back, the rope dangled, swaying in the pitch darkness.
His room was still the same like the last time. The bed was made, the desk tidier but some loose papers in mangled piles. But it was the cold, the unlit hearth that shivered straight through my spine. I take central heating for granted.
The door was shut. We had to move fast.
"Ryder, Helene. Find some paper and ink and write a message to dad."
I found the loose floorboard near the piano and kicked one part up. The walkie talkie was there, but trying to work it was useless. The battery ran out.
After many failed attempts I sense a shadow creep along the floor. "Did you guys lock the do–"
Helene let out a mouse like shriek. A blonde hair man, similar in Oscar's age, in fact it was the same one in the family portrait. His eyes scan the room and the two new out of place arrivals. I expected him to be shocked, but his demeanour seemed to relax, as if he knew we would be coming.
"Well, well. Isn't this a jolly surprise?" He coaxed, pushing the door effortlessly with his hand. A young woman, in a dazzling burgundy dress, with light brown curls and big blue eyes poked her head in, an all too pleasing evil grin stretched across her face.
YOU ARE READING
Aspiring writer Freya Telford has a lot on her plate: mum left, her house caught fire, Uncle Johnny died: plus she's inherited Ashford Estate in Kent that's apparently haunted like a horror show. With her father Steve and younger brother Ryder, they...