The Reunion ( VILLAGE TALES EP. 57 )

The past is only ever just behind us. If something disturbs it, it takes very little for it to catch us up.

I remember it was a Thursday night when Dave asked me if I knew any reason why Jean hadn’t turned up that evening to help out.

I shook my head and could see Dave was both confused and worried. 

Jean lives alone which is not unusual, but when for no reason we know of there’s no answer, all sorts of disasters spring to mind.

In previous generations living alone was seen as a sad outcome as, due to illness or bereavement, an individual might be forced into a state of loneliness. Nowadays it’s more likely a lifestyle choice. After the raising of children and or the collapse of a long term relationship that independence is sometimes hard to surrender. Two fellow dealers in antiques had lived independently for some years. When Mike proposed to Josephine, after giving it some thought, Josephine accepted provided she could keep her flat and live there too, so maintaining some of the independence she cherished.

Jean is quite a private person, which surprises some as that’s not the impression she gives. It’s only when you become concerned about someone that you realise how little you really know about them. While recalling her ‘imaginary friend’ when she was a young girl, she admitted never having mentioned it to anyone before. If she had she might have found out then that she had spent six or seven years in the company of the long deceased seventh Earl and once heir to the Delamere estate. What she had presumed to be, what people refer to as an ‘imaginary friend’, had in fact been a ghost, though ‘ghost’ makes him sound harmless, which he wasn’t. That was when she lived at Ridge Farm which is now Ridge house and incidentally still up for sale. The bones recovered during its modernisation were found to be the remains of that twelve year old Earl, at the time thought to have drowned but now known to have been murdered. The newly developed kitchen and conservatory still alarms anyone entering that area where the bones were found. Every few months another agent receives instructions, someone arranges a house whisperer able to rid homes of its ‘memory’ of the past. Ridge House already had its reputation, but disturbing mortal remains seems to have  resurrected an angry spirit that was never a happy one. Whatever they do, whatever was present, still is, but more so. 

An American TV company sent a researcher to investigate the possibility of Ridge House being featured in a series about haunted houses. After the researcher had been found hiding in a wet room for several hours and fearing for her sanity the company decided that it was too much of a risk for the presenters and crew. Apparently in the ghost show business you can have too much of a good thing. It’s a shame as the fees might have come in useful for the owner who is still in a home near Dorchester and not as she was before her husband had the heart attack whilst trying to claw his way through a wall for most of the night. In other respects people have noticed a dearth of wild life around the house and the effect on children and particularly dogs, has not changed.

Dave tried several ways to get in touch with Jean, but eventually he left to try her home. He returned and said that he and her neighbour, who had a key, had been into her house but she wasn’t there and there was nothing out of the ordinary. There were no lights left on, or anything indicating that she had left in a hurry or in any mysterious circumstances. It was significant that her car was not parked on the lane outside her house so the presumption is that her session at the Drum slipped her mind and she’s away visiting friends.

I met Sally Pemberton in the shop the following day and Jean’s disappearance, for which there may have been a simple explanation, was being discussed. Sally had raised the subject before about people living on their own and how regular checks to see if people are okay would save lives, but the fear that some ‘Big Brother’ would use it to spy on you, prevents it. 

‘Those that live alone in the country,’ she said, ‘and don’t have immediate neighbours, can wonder who would notice if suddenly they weren’t around?’

I agreed that most people tend to keep themselves to themselves, so I asked Sally if she was to shut herself away how long would it be before someone came knocking on her door to see if she was alright.

‘I suppose one of the kids, but that would still be a day or two, and that after they had phoned, which isn’t every week.’ 

We both then agreed it was by no means an age related concern. Anyone who lives on their own could have an accident and find themselves seriously injured with nothing but the hope that someone might call and be able to hear their cries, or discover their body before it’s too late.

Whilst Sally and I were chatting Milton Peacock popped his head round the shop door to say that Jean’s car had been spotted up at Ridge House.

We all breathed a communal sigh of relief, but I found myself immediately concerned over why that should be so. The house was uninhabited and I began to wonder how long the car had been there. 

Later that day news circulated that an ambulance had been seen heading up the lane in the direction of Ridge House. This had been followed a few minutes later by a police car. One of the Todber boys had passed the house in his tractor and said he saw several vehicles and a constable at the gate.

It was mid afternoon before the news broke that Jean’s body had been found in the house. It was believed that she had died the day before she was expected at the pub.

The whole village was in shock. We were all devastated, but also confused and angry. Jean was not young, but she was active, social and lively, the kind of person that after a few meetings you think you have always known, and can’t imagine not knowing, can’t imagine not being around. She was also the last member of one of the oldest local families, the Carters of Ridge Farm. We felt cheated, and it seemed so unfair.

I was kept awake several nights recalling how as a child Jean had become the favourite of Edward her ‘imaginary friend’. I baulk at using the term ghost as it trivialises what power this presence or spirit had, or has. Brought up as a spoilt, vengeful child then callously murdered, too much evil remained without peace. If Edward’s jealousy of Jean’s little brother was enough to make him kill little ‘Pauly’, what other horrors was he capable of?

We were all desperate for information, and some may have been exaggerated, hearsay, or invention, but I’ve checked out what I can tell you, so explain this.

The house was securely locked, new high security doors and windows, the only keys in the hands of the agents, but Jean was found inside. 

Now this, Jean’s body was found by the old fireplace where the bones of the murdered Edward were found and where anyone who has been in the house says the focus of whatever it was, was concentrated. 

And this, the door to the kitchen, that was built to open inwards, had been pushed outwards with some phenomenal force buckling the door and its surroundings. Police say there was no evidence that tools or machinery of any kind had been used.

Consider this, there was no forensic evidence found of anyone other than those who had permission to be in the building. However the police say it was probable that a vehicle was used to pull the door out by a gang breaking into the ‘empty’ house thinking the owners were away. They think Jean might have been attacked after interrupted them having seen lights whilst driving by, but they cannot explain, if that was so, how there was no evidence of violence, and the cause of her death was recorded as ‘unknown’.

And finally this, since that event and Jean’s death, Ridge House though still unsold, has none of its previous atmosphere, normality has returned, dogs enter without alarm, children wander at about their ease, and Martins have started to nest in the eaves.

One question remains, what brought Jean to the house? Was it so her spirit could be dragged unwillingly from her body, or was she happy to see her childhood’s ‘imaginary friend’ once again, and leave with him? 

You decide, but we may never know.

Listen to Village Tales and other short stories from the HONKEYMOON CAFE

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Written and read by Barkley Johnson.