Whether people have an instance when they suspect that something is not in the place where they left it, I cannot say. I can only relate that on that cold dark winter night I was, I am certain the only person not asleep in that hotel.
The hotel night porter’s job can be lonely and quiet. No matter how often one has walked along the many corridors, there is always the odd time when one can feel a stony chill, prompting one to look behind before quickening one’s pace. It is then that you may become aware that certain items have been moved or rearranged but not in a fashion known to you. Although I was the manager of this establishment, I did from time to time stand in for other members of staff who could not work on rare occasions. Night Portering was the one duty which I had no qualms about fulfilling.
The night was particularly cold even for the beginning of January soon after the Christmas decorations had been stored away for another year. The hotel was quiet with only a few rooms occupied and they were all on the first floor. At the end of each corridor, a window looked out into the blackness of night, overlooking the roadway which passed the front of the building and another window looking out over the extensive gardens at the rear. Even in daylight it was well nigh impossible to see any other buildings and even at night, if such a building was illuminated inside, it might only appear as a pinprick of light.
It wasn't difficult to imagine that noises and creaks could occur in an old building but what took place during this particular evening was rather extraordinary and played with the senses. A certain Mr Fotheringham, an ageing gentleman. He was occupying room 108, a pleasant and airy room which overlooked the rear gardens.
Mr Fotheringham was of a quiet disposition and had no wish to be disturbed let alone be within earshot of more jovial guests who may not be quiet when the bar closes and they make their way back to their rooms. It was however surprising when Mr Fotheringham or Albert to his close acquaintances had chosen to enter the bar earlier that evening, and with a drink sit in solitude at a corner away from the bar counter.
Carruthers had spent many years working in the Manor, and although called upon once in a while for other duties, had spent most of his working hours behind the bar of the Snug. During the winter months he also tended the log fire in that bar which gave out a surprising amount of heat. The Manor did not have a public bar and although not prohibited, the locals by and large did not use the Snug. There was however one local character who always seemed to be present during opening hours and he even had his very own nominated bar stool at the end of the bar.
Old Davey wasn't one to utter two syllables when one would do but upon this particular winter night spoke quietly to Carruthers. “I don't like it…Not one bit. That Mr Fotheringham over yonder in the corner is a rum ‘un.”
Carruthers replied, “He's okay, he might be quiet but he’s doing no harm.” Old Davey slurped his pint and said no more. I continued my night portering duties throughout the hotel as the evening grew later, the duties including setting up tables and chairs in a meeting room if required and patrolling the building as security. Later that same evening while I was patrolling the corridors, I caught a glimpse of Albert coming out of one of the unused bedrooms but this was on the third floor which was quite a distance from his own room.
On the third floor there are several larger rooms which serve as family accommodation and are mainly used in the summer. On any floor which is not being used, the bedroom doors are kept unlocked so that they can be entered and checked at any time.
I felt that it was inconceivable that Albert had wandered and lost his sense of direction so I decided to investigate. Upon entering the unused room from which I had seen Albert leave, I saw that the room had one double bed and two single beds in it and were stripped of bed linen and contained only the base and the mattress. I felt a sense of unease and a cold chill such as I had not experienced before, but the room had not, as far as I could see, been tampered with but that only increased my suspicions. I then left that room and closed the door but it was then I heard the sound of young children at play, which startled me but thinking only of Albert, I dismissed these sounds from my mind. Making haste towards Mr Fotheringham’s room, the door of which displayed the number 108, I decided that if he was inside, which he appeared to be, then I would let the matter rest and do no more.
However, it did play on my mind and in the silence of the night I felt as if things were not as they should be. I decided to open up the Snug and have a look at where Mr Fotheringham had been sitting. I did not in all honesty know what I was looking for but nevertheless, I felt compelled to do so. I approached the corner table at which Mr Fotheringham had been sitting and noticed nothing out of the ordinary. I hesitated, I just felt there was something. Looking upon that old wooden table in the corner of the Snug, then I saw something, letters and numbers carved into the table ‘AF 314’ which was the number of the room on the second floor, which Albert had visited. The carved numbers were black and worn smooth in the wood. They looked as if they had been there for a very long time.
It crossed my mind that I should return to room 314, but there were other things which demanded my attention. I did however look at the hotel booking chart and saw that room 314 had been ‘blocked off’ for refurbishment and redecoration. I also checked the chart for room 108 whereupon I noted that the room was still marked vacant with no mention of Mr Fotheringham. This bewildered me as the receptionist who had been on duty during the previous evening was a stickler for accuracy. I reached for the black leather-bound registration book and checked the entries made within it. Once again, I could see no mention of Mr Fotheringham and no evidence that he had in fact checked into the hotel at all.
As I was standing behind the reception desk, Miss Paton, the head housekeeper, entered and flicked her wet umbrella in the lobby. “Dreadful weather, Charles, sorry I mean, Mr Drummond, just dreadful.” After Veronica Paton had removed her soaking raincoat in the cloakroom and gathered herself, she approached me at the desk and asked if any rooms had been added to the occupancy list from the previous afternoon. I told her that a Mr Fotheringham was residing in room 108 but that there was no mention of it either on the booking chart or in the registration book.
She offered to take a look and would use her pass-key if required to gain entry to Mr Fotheringham’s room. Miss Paton who was always of a cheerful disposition smiled as she energetically took to the stairs. It was only a few minutes thereafter when the rather deflated and sullen housekeeper returned with the news that upon receiving no answer to her knocking upon the door, she had used her pass-key to enter room 108. There she saw a room with no guest, no luggage and which showed no sign of having been occupied at all.
By this time, it was barely 7am and a morning receptionist had just come on duty. She had been on duty during the previous afternoon but had no knowledge of Mr Fotheringham booking in at all. She stated that she knew of this man but had not seen him for a few months. It was then that I decided to make haste to room 314 and on my way I saw Miss Paton, the head housekeeper and together we made our way towards that room.
Having climbed the stairs and now being on the third floor it was but a little way to the room. The air had a distinctive musty odour, although the premises had no problem with dampness in the fabric of the building, despite its age.
As we approached the desired room we could see the numerals 314 displayed upon the door. Despite the doors of unoccupied rooms being unlocked as a rule, this door was indeed locked. Miss Paton used her pass-key, opened the door and entered the room. Whereupon she let out the most terrible scream I have ever heard in my life. Her countenance was one of sheer horror, as she covered her nose, turned upon her heels and ran from the room.
I entered the room in an instant and will never forget neither the sight nor the awful pungent stench which greeted me. There, in front of me were indeed the three beds which I had seen on the previous day but now upon the fully made up beds, laying upon the bedclothes were the rotting corpses of two adults and two young children who must have been of the ages of five or six. For some reason, perhaps because I had seen Mr Fotheringham leave this room less than twelve hours previously, I thought it might be him and his family. At the side of the bed was an old brown leather case, Dangling from the handle was a tied-on label which although marked was still legible. It bore the name of Mr & Mrs A Fotheringham, followed by the address of the hotel, while upon the other side of the label there were dates, 16th - 21st March 1896.
At that time, I remembered that at the back of my office was a shelf containing the old registers and I eagerly wanted to explore the one for that period. A few minutes later, upon my office table, I opened the old dust covered register, thumbed through the old and yellowing pages. There in front of me, plain to see, was the entry written by a fountain pen. “Albert Fotheringham and Family. Room 314.”
Whatever possessed me, I cannot tell, but I decided to return to Room 314. Reaching the door of the room, I covered my nose, unlocked the door and entered but the room was completely empty, no bodies, no bed clothes, just a double and two single mattresses laying on the bed frames. The smell had gone and fresh air entered through the open windows. I looked out of the open window at the gardens in front of me and took a deep breath of fresh air.
It was then that the windows slammed shut. I turned around and there was no door, just a continuous wall, the infested bodies returned as did the great stench of rotting corpses which was manifestly more pungent than previously and I realised that I had left my phone in my office. As the light continues to fade, I have difficulty in breathing now as I feel that I’m being crushed so I am writing all of this down on the pieces of paper which the children were using for drawing, to inform people for when one day they discover this room and the bodies therein.
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