Abberton house, p.1
Abberton House, page 1
Abberton House
Debbie Ioanna
Copyright © 2022 Debbie Ioanna
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The right of Debbie Ioanna to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
First published in 2022 by Bloodhound Books.
Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publisher or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
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www.bloodhoundbooks.com
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Print ISBN 978-1-5040-7028-7
Contents
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Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Epilogue
A note from the publisher
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To my daughter, never hold yourself back because you think what you want is out of reach. Just go for it. Take the risk. It may be the best thing you ever do. And remember... be kind, be brave, be crazy.
Do you believe in ghosts…?
Prologue
February 1916
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The house stood on an old, retired farm in a small village near Skipton, North Yorkshire. It had been built in the mid-nineteenth century by a young man called Robert Abberton, whose family had owned the land for many generations. The bricks were multihued, like a beautiful mosaic painting. The large blue wooden door took centre stage on the front of the rectangular house. There were windows on either side with matching blue frames and wooden shutters. On the first floor were several more windows and standing tall on both sides of the roof were large chimneys. It was a great design for its day, admired by everyone. Especially on the inside with its grand staircase and modern indoor facilities. The large rooms were designed for a large family and Robert hoped to fill them with children of his own, with enough boys to help him on the farm.
The farm thrived; however, the same could not be said for Robert’s young family. The harsh northern winters took their toll, with his wife dying young from pneumonia leaving him to raise their only child alone. Robert never remarried. When his son Joshua was old enough, he married a local girl called Mary and together they had a child: Elizabeth. With no sons to inherit the land, it and the house were passed on to Elizabeth and her husband Henry in 1914, once both her parents had died, although the farm was no longer running.
By then she was in her late twenties, and had given birth to three children. Mary was the oldest at ten. She was very mature for her age and loved to help her mother out with the housework and looking after the two younger children. With her long dark hair, rounded face and green eyes she resembled her mother. Charlotte was seven but not as keen to assist with the cleaning as her older sister. She was very mischievous, not necessarily naughty, but definitely cheeky, and was loved by all who met her. She had the look of her father: brown eyes and curly fair hair. The youngest member of the family, at just two, was Toby. He was very curious and followed Charlotte around, watching her get into trouble, usually trying to mimic her actions. He didn’t speak much, only managing to mutter one syllable at a time.
As the farm was no longer in use it left the family with a lot of land. Some of the fields were rented out to neighbours, which gave them some extra income, and some were kept as a place for the children to explore and enjoy. Elizabeth had a patch for vegetables to grow and a coop to keep a few chickens.
Elizabeth’s husband Henry was a very handsome man. He was a doctor, which was not a bad profession for someone so young and from a working-class background. He had excelled in school and was supported at university by a wealthy, aristocratic family he had grown up with while his parents worked in service for them. This was not the kind of opportunity experienced by many people, but this particular lord and lady had no sons of their own to watch succeed in life, so they decided to help Henry and give him the opportunity they felt he deserved. He would never forget their kindness. Now a doctor in a small but thriving village and with a healthy and content family around him he could not have been happier.
Henry was popular in the village. He was a kind man, known and loved by all. He would see his patients as and when he was needed. The elderly Mrs Fincham would call on him first thing in the morning, little Charlie’s chicken pox would be seen to in the afternoon, old Gerome’s gout in the evening (which was painful after a long day at work in the fields) and then he would help deliver Alice’s second baby in the early hours, as it could not wait until the sun came up. After three long hours of labour, baby Edward was born, and Henry would walk home, reaching the door just minutes before the sun made an appearance. He’d get a few hours’ sleep before Mrs Fincham would be back with another ailment.
When the war with Germany began, he did all he could as a doctor helping the young volunteers prepare, but eventually his need to do fulfil his own duty came and in November 1915 he left his home and was sent for training to join the army. It was the first time he had been away from his family. In February 1916, after a short visit home, he left for France. As a doctor, he would not be placed in the infantry so would be safe from danger, or at least this was what he told his worrying family. He would have no chance of a visit home until the summer at least. It would be a long six months.
December 2015
It had been Catherine’s dream to live in a large, old farmhouse out in the Yorkshire countryside for as long as she could remember. She had always lived in new, modern apartments in a busy and loud town centre where there was never any peace from neighbours (above and below) and the constant noise of traffic. She could not begin to imagine how nice it would be to wake up to the sound of birds chirping, to the sunrise rather than the sound of bin lorries and bottle bin collections. In fact, the only birds to be found in the town centre were pigeons, and there was nothing beautiful or harmonious about them.
A small town-centre apartment was not an ideal environment to raise her daughter. Isabella was now five and had a very big imagination. When woken up by the sound of the new upstairs neighbours’ cries of passion, Bella had had no doubt as to what could have caused such loud screaming. The spider that her daddy had killed the day before had come back as a ghost to haunt the building and had spent the night terrorising upstairs. She’d hoped it would come to her room the next night.
Nothing scared Bella. This made things easier for Catherine who was often alone while her husband worked through the night. He was a fire fighter and his long, varying shifts kept him away, but he would then have several days at home to spend time with them, although this was not always as relaxing as it sounded. Catherine worked from home. She had set up her own business, baking and decorating cakes for birthdays, weddings and all occasions. She was getting a lot more clients, so money was coming in nicely; however, it usually meant that the kitchen was piled high with cakes and icing and cake boards. Another reason to seek larger and alternative accommodation.
There was no need to look for somewhere close to town. Catherine had most of her supplies delivered and Adam did not mind a long drive to work. He was able to sleep at the station if necessary, so was happy to find a house out in the countryside as Catherine wanted.
Abberton House was perfect and just what they were after. The kitchen was big with room for a dining table, so the spare room behind it could be Catherine’s workspace. The lounge was large with an old open fireplace, and a conservatory had been added on to the back in recent years. There were three bedrooms upstairs, room for another baby which they both wanted but had put off due to lack of space in the apartment. The garden was the size of a football field. A lot of the land had been sold off by the previous owners, but they had kept back a generous a mount. Adam was particularly looking forward to building a barbeque and spending his summers out in the fresh air, maybe putting together a play area with swings and a slide for Bella.
The house had been empty for several years but was in surprisingly good condition. All that was needed was modernising and decorating. Adam knew that his wife would already have plenty of ideas, before they even put in an offer. He was expecting a battle with the sellers who would likely want a price as close to the house’s value as possible, something that he and Catherine, with this their first mortgage, wanted to keep as low as they could. However, the sellers called back within the hour to accept their offer. Adam and Catherine were over the moon. After renting for so long and putting away as much money as possible, they would finally own their own home.
Two months after the offer was accepted, they moved in.
Chapter 1
February 2016
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It was a cold and wet Friday morning when Adam and Catherine got the keys to their new house. This was not a good omen, according to their elderly neighbour back at the flat. ‘The first day is rain, the last is pain,’ she had said when they’d returned to pack their belongings. She was always full of superstition, so they knew not to pay any attention. The rain did not hinder them filling the two rented vans with their belongings and setting off to their new home. Bella was in school and was spending the night with her grandparents, so Adam and Catherine would not need to worry about her during the move.
At eleven o’clock they arrived at their new house. Adam had driven the first van, while Catherine drove their car. The second was driven by two of Adam’s colleagues, Martin and Paul. They had to be back at the station in the afternoon but were staying long enough to help unload the heavy items. Adam had managed to secure a few days’ leave so he would have plenty of time to move in and make their new home comfortable. They started with the furniture. Their sofa looked tiny in the large living room, barely filling a corner. It would mean a shopping trip for a new suite. The kitchen looked very empty as they didn’t have a dining table yet; they used to eat from the breakfast counter in the flat since there was no room for anything else. Catherine made sure that all her baking equipment was moved to her new workspace and the beds were set up so they would have somewhere to sleep. After all the day’s work they would definitely be ready for a long rest later.
It took most of the day, but they were finally in. Martin and Paul left with the promise of a crate of beer each as thanks for giving up their free time. There was still a lot to unpack, not to mention the long list of companies and utilities that needed to be notified of the move. By six o’clock it was almost dark. The rain was finally easing off. They decided that enough was enough and it was time to eat. Knowing they wouldn’t have time to cook something for themselves, Adam’s mother had given them a homemade lasagne which just needed heating up in the oven for twenty minutes. It was a blessing as they were both starving.
‘I’ll get the lasagne sorted,’ Catherine said. ‘You go set up the TV and DVD player and we’ll just watch a movie. I’ll ring Sky tomorrow to come and set us up.’
‘Will do.’ Adam yawned. There was a knock at the door. ‘Hang on, I’ll get that first. Maybe it’s a new neighbour offering us some apple pie,’ he said in a badly attempted American accent.
Catherine laughed. She left him to it and set about trying to understand the new oven. It was very large, much bigger and better than the electric cooker she’d had at the flat. There were two ovens, six hobs and a separate grill. This would be amazing for her baking. She could get so much done and the business would grow in no time. She found the right setting and then put the lasagne on the shelf and set the timer. When she looked up and out the window, she saw an old man standing in the garden. She could only just make out his wrinkled face staring at his surroundings, confused. He held what looked like a tissue across his chest, rustling it with his shaking hands. He wore brown trousers and a long grey cardigan, which had holes here and there. She noticed he was wearing slippers. He must be frozen, she thought.
Catherine went to fetch Adam but he was already making his way back into the kitchen.
‘Well, that was odd.’ He rubbed his chin. ‘It was an old man. He was looking for his wife. He didn’t seem to hear me. He just kept asking where she was, said she vanished with the children and then he walked away. I didn’t know what to do.’
‘I think we should call the police. I saw him stood in the garden; he’ll get pneumonia if we leave him out there all night.’
‘In the garden, you say? Where was he? I’ll try coaxing him inside and then sit him in front of the fire to keep warm.’ Adam reached for his coat.
‘He’s just out there.’ Catherine pointed to the window, but the man was no longer there. ‘Oh, he’s gone!’ She went to the other window to look further around the back of the garden but he wasn’t there either. ‘Go look for him before it gets darker. I’ll call the police and see if there’s been any reports of a missing person.’
Adam went out to look for him and Catherine phoned the police. She gave a description and they promised to come out to search the land to find him. There hadn’t been any reports of a missing person, but they would check with the local residential homes to see if anyone had snuck out of their rooms unnoticed. However, they told her the nearest home was three miles away, so the old man would have had a long walk if that’s where he came from.
Adam returned after fifteen minutes, wet and cold from the rain.
‘I couldn’t find him.’ He put his coat near the fire to dry. ‘He can’t have gotten that far but there were no signs of him anywhere. What did the police say?’
Catherine relayed the conversation.
‘Well, if any of the homes are missing a resident there’ll be an uproar, so they’ll be out searching,’ Adam said. ‘And if a little old lady has lost her husband I’m sure she’ll be on to the police in no time. He seemed really confused. He might have dementia or something.’
‘Yeah, I suppose we’ll just have to keep an eye out. We don’t have any curtains yet, so it won’t be hard. If he does come back we’ll just have to get him inside and phone the police again.’
Catherine wandered back into the kitchen. She opened the oven and the smell of lasagne filled the air. She’d forgotten how hungry she was. Adam searched through all the cupboards for the plates, finally finding two, and Catherine loaded them up with food. Adam’s mother was a great cook and they couldn’t wait to tuck in.
Later on, when their bellies were full and they were nodding off on the couch, there was another knock on the door. When Adam looked out he noticed the police car.
‘Hello, officer,’ he said. ‘Is everything okay?’
‘You called earlier about an elderly gentleman on the property?’ the young officer asked, removing his hat.
‘Yes, we did,’ Adam said as Catherine appeared at his side. ‘Have you found him?’
‘Unfortunately not,’ he responded. ‘None of the homes are missing anyone and no one else has reported a missing person. We’ve had officers out searching your garden – sorry if we’ve disturbed you – and the surrounding area but we’ve not seen him. I just thought you’d like to know, and if you do see him again please call me directly on this number.’ He handed them a card with his name, PC James Shackleton. ‘Try and bring him inside if you can, keep him distracted and warm until we get to him.’
