The Estate Agent business was an old Victorian building at the corner of Brincome Street and Geneva Road. The young lady sitting at her desk by the window was eagerly awaiting her first customers of the day, Michael and Jennifer, in order to show them what could be their first new home. Clutching her folder, she made her way out to her car for the short journey to the house.
Jennifer, who was looking at the top bedroom, was certain that she saw a young boy’s face at the window. He looked solemn, unsmiling and distant. A few minutes later, the Estate agent’s car pulled up. Leaving her car, she spotted the young couple looking at the outside of the house “Good Morning, I’m Sarah. Please follow me.” She unlocked the door and the three of them stepped inside. Initial impressions were indeed favourable. The building was certainly needing some work but it wasn’t as bad as an old building could have been. Telling her husband about the boy’s face at the window, Michael was quick to ask Sarah about the history of the building. “Used to be a small private school at the turn of last century but I’m sure there are records of it.”
The solid brick built Victorian terraced house had stood the test of time. It wasn’t a difficult decision for Michael and Jennifer who fell in love with it at the first viewing. They had seen other properties but this was the one, being built in 1867 in what was a tree lined avenue, the three storey house was full of Victorian character and features such as original fireplaces and decorative cornices. Unfortunately, the drab interior was more akin to the 1950’s than 2022, but the newlyweds were ready for the challenge of renovation.
The previous owner of the property had been there for many years and liked to joke that he had come with the bricks and would never leave. He too had bought the property with hopes of making this his lifelong home. But now, a young married couple had been shown around the house by Sarah, the newly promoted property agent
It didn’t take long to move their minimal possessions into the property and both were excited at transforming their new home. Both Michael and Jennifer worked in IT and were used to working from home due to previous Covid lockdowns. They were both looking forward to balancing work and renovation. One of Jennifer’s interests was looking into the history of old buildings and those who used to inhabit them. Researching online, she soon discovered that their home had a colourful history. In the late 19th and early 20th Century the building had served as a boarding school for boys with a maximum of 18 pupils. While sitting at the kitchen table enjoying a steaming mug of coffee she lifted her head from her laptop, “Listen to this, says here that when Albert died in 2008 without any known relatives, police had already ruled out any connection between him and his wife’s disappearance a few weeks earlier.”
“So, old Albert wasn’t a murderer. I’d hate to find his misses under the floorboards,” Jen threw a magazine at him and laughed. “Stop it. That’s not funny, Things like that have happened.” Michael sipped his coffee. “I’ll let you know if I find any cadavers.” Jen spluttered her coffee, “Don’t bloody bother!” Both Michael and Jennifer were inquisitive and eager to discover if there was anything else about this building which hadn’t made it as far as online rumour-mongering.
‘Prioritise the priorities’ was the young couple’s mantra.This had always been the case and it had never let them down. Both agreed that trying to renovate the whole house in one go was not going to happen. The place would end up like a building site. No, they would renovate one room at a time and had started with their own bedroom. The period building was in good shape bar a few plumbing problems which produced groaning noises in the pipes.
The kitchen wasn’t in bad shape apart from being somewhat dated but at least it was functional, while the top of the house was crying out for attention. Long days of clearing out and cleaning followed by dinner and a glass or two of wine. Jennifer and Michael’s bedroom was one of two at the top of the house underneath the loft which was accessible by a hatch in the hall. A pair of steps leant against the wall on the landing.
After making their own bedroom comfortable, the couple started to clear out the other top floor bedroom. Slightly smaller in size, it was in a far worse condition, as if nobody had ventured into it in years. The couple worked hard to remove the old furniture from the room and as the hours passed the couple realised that it would be an ideal work space. As the couple busied themselves in the room each of them noted a creaking floorboard just below the window.
Michael quickly realised that this small floorboard, about two feet in length, wasn’t screwed down and he was able to remove it to reveal the darkness of the space underneath. A musty smell filled the air. Jennifer reached inside the void and her fingers found metal. A metal box which in all probability had been there for many years. Her fingers grasped it and brought it out into the sunlight which shone in through the window.
“Michael, I think you had better see this!” The box was obviously very old although it was free of rust. Michael reached over for his toolbox and extracted a large flat-head screwdriver. “I’ll soon have this open!” The couple’s excitement was tangible. Jennifer watched as beads of sweat formed on Michael’s forehead along with furrowed lines of frustration.
Suddenly, with a great crack of splitting metal the sturdy lid violently sprung open revealing a roll of papers tied with a thin band of faded ribbon. Cutting the ribbon was easy while understanding what lay inside might not be. The papers, darkened and yellowed with age, were still legible albeit with difficulty. Michael spread the papers out upon the old wooden floorboards with Jennifer squatting beside him. The first document they unrolled appeared to be a list of names. On closer inspection it was evident that these names, written alphabetically in black ink were all boys who had been pupils at this, the Barton Boarding School for Boys. Sixteen boys who had received their education in this very room, so long ago. “I bet they would have been able to tell us a thing or two about this place.” Michael said lightheartedly before adding, “We might get a plaque and name this residence ‘Barton House’”.
Jennifer barely responded, being too engrossed in reading another document, a newspaper cutting, which seemed to convey an altogether different view of this establishment. She began to read aloud, “Mrs Worthington, having worked for 12 years, as Manageress was found hanging above the entrance lobby of the establishment.” Jennifer shrieked, grabbed Michael’s arm and dropped the paper onto the floor. Within minutes, Michael and his wife had closed the door of the room and were heading downstairs to the kitchen. As they reached the first floor landing, Jennifer in a voice almost silenced by emotion whispered, “That poor woman.”
Michael felt that the documents had cast a shadow over their new house but was determined to stay positive. “Why don’t we invite the couple from next door round and introduce ourselves.”
“I’m not sure.” Jennifer thought for a minute. “We’re not ready to receive guests.”
Michael chuckled, “I’m not talking about a dinner party!” Jennifer agreed that this actually was perhaps the best time, after their hard work, to bring in some cheer. “They’re a couple like us who have been through home refurbishment. I’m sure they won’t mind a bit of historical grime. I know they are both working so I’ll pop an invitation through their letterbox.” Michael scribbled a note on the back of an envelope. “I won’t be long.”
Michael left his front door slightly ajar and soon returned. “I put our landline number on the note and hopefully they’ll ring before we put the champers on ice.” Jennifer smiled. She knew that bad things had happened a long time ago and it was all best forgotten.
The phone rang just after 5pm and Jennifer answered it. “Hi, It’s Emily from next door. Thank you so much for the invite. Is it alright if my young son comes too?”
“Sure, just an informal get together, I’ll see you soon.” A few minutes later the doorbell rang out. Both Michael and Jennifer greeted their new neighbours. “Please come in.” Following their hosts into the front room, they introduced themselves as Emily and Geoff and their son, Sam. After the introductions, Emily told their hosts how nice it was to have new neighbours. Jennifer was keen to ask, “What was the previous owner like?
“Old Albert, he was a really fine old gentleman. I used to see him regularly. Always used to see him walking by on his way to buy a newspaper. That was, well, until it happened.”
Jennifer was curious. “What happened?” Michael and Geoff had been talking but were now part of the conversation and listening to Emily as she related the tale of what had happened to old Albert. “We usually left the house early, the three of us, and usually dropped my son off at school before we continued into town for our work. Always leave at the same time to avoid the traffic jams and always saw Albert plodding his way along to the newsagent.”
“However, we never saw him and figured that he might just be having a long lie. When we didn’t see him the next day, we decided that after work when we got home we would check if he was alright.” Geoff found the kitchen window open and managed to climb inside before opening the front door to let me in. Both of us heard a scream coming from the top of the house and we rushed upstairs to the top room.”
Michael was enthralled. “What did you find?”
Geoff replied. Well, that was the strange thing. The room was full of desks as it would have been in 1896 but there were no pupils, no teacher and more to the point, no Albert. I needed to get out of the room, went over to the bannister and looked down and saw him. Albert was hanging above the front lobby suspended by a rope. Jennifer gasped and put her hand over her mouth as if to silence any screams. Michael put an arm round his wife.
All this time the young boy just looked around him and stayed quiet. After a while the boy asked if he could use the bathroom. “Of course. It’s on the first landing near the stairs.” Upon reaching the first floor landing, Sam ignored the bathroom and carried on up to the top landing. He stood outside of the old classroom as if not wanting to pass over the threshold.
Eventually, the boy took a deep breath, turned the door-handle and entered the room. Rows of iron-framed twin wooden desks with the seats built in as one unit greeted him. In front of the class was a blackboard with the date written in chalk, 27th June 1896. The master was standing beside his high desk in front of the class of boys, and peered over his spectacles. “You’re late, boy!” Roared the master across the hushed classroom. Boys sat bolt upright in their seats with their hands clasped in front of them on their desks. It was evident that some miscreant had just been whacked with a cane, as the punished boy limped back to his seat with a distraught grimace on his face. Sam closed the door behind him, remained standing and looked around the classroom. “Sit down, boy!” The master’s voice had increased in volume.
Sam did not obey but just stood there, looking around him. Slowly he walked up the aisle on the left hand side of the room and made his way to the only vacant desk beside another pupil. This boy, the same one who had just been whacked, had minutes before, been identified as Thomas Bartholomew and who was now sitting uncomfortably on his seat with tears in his eyes. He was a scrawny lad who looked ill-fed and who was wearing old ill-fitting clothes. Sam could see him writing notes on the inside of his bible which lay open on the desk before him. Sam reached out to him and Thomas had glanced back at him with tear-filled eyes, but as he did so, all the desks, pupils and the master disappeared. He thought about how just a few minutes earlier he had sat at an old wooden desk in 1896 with Thomas Bartholomew. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what the master would have done to him had he seen Thomas writing in his bible. Sam suddenly felt increasingly uneasy in the room and turned to leave before running down the stairs all the way to the bottom.
The boy said nothing but went to stand beside his parents who were engrossed in conversation. However, suddenly Sam became visibly upset and said he wanted to leave. His father asked him why and the distraught boy related everything that had happened in the top room including his encounter with Thomas Bartholomew. The four adults just looked at each other and didn’t know what to say until the silence was broken when the boy’s parents said they had to leave. Michael and Jennifer saw them leave and wished them well, before closing the door behind them.
“Gave me the bloody creeps!” Jennifer was uncharacteristically forthright.
Michael was in agreement. “Well, we might as well polish off that wine.” Both sat down on the sofa and marvelled at the fact that at least the front room was decorated and comfortable. “We haven’t done too badly in the time we’ve been here.” Jennifer added, in between sips of wine.
“I’ve got an idea!” Michael leapt up from his seat, extracted his mobile from his pocket and dialled the Estate Agent’s number. “Good afternoon, I’m Sarah. How may I help you?
“Hello, this is Michael from Barton House. I wonder if you could tell me something about Albert Simpson who used to own this property.” Sarah was hesitant before replying, “There was no Albert Simpson in that property. The only person that we can actually verify to have owned the property is a man called Thomas Bartholomew who owned it until two years before you bought it.’ Sarah chuckled before continuing, “He told me he was selling up due to family circumstances but entertained the idea of purchasing it again sometime in the future as he never actually ever wanted to leave and always saw himself as being there forever.” Michael thanked the estate agent and ended the call.
Minutes later the landline phone rang and Jennifer answered it. She heard the lady’s voice on the other end. “Hi, Jennifer, it’s Emily from next door. We arrived home late. It’s so kind of you to invite us through. Would 6pm be alright?” Jennifer nearly dropped the phone and looked ill. Michael grabbed the phone and suggested that another evening might be better as his wife didn’t feel so good.
Jennifer’s face looked ashen while Michael paced up and down, stunned into silence and waving his hand through his hair. “The box, the damn box!” Michael sprinted to where he had stored it. They both sat at the dining room table with the contents of the box displayed in front of them. “Photos, there must be photos”. Jennifer found an old sepia photo of the house and placed it back on the table. Michael picked up another and both he and his wife stared incredulously at the old faded photo. Both were in shock as there were three people in the photograph, the schoolmaster, the school governess and one of the pupils all standing in the top classroom, unsmiling, solemn and distant.
Neither Jennifer nor Michael knew what to say to each other. They just had the horrible realisation that the three people in the photo had just visited them. Clearly in shock and not being able to think straight they heard the front door bell ring out. Both of them went to open the front door to be greeted by a parcel courier holding a package in a brown cardboard box. They accepted it and gave a signature before closing the door.
Taking the package through to the lounge they couldn’t think what it could be as they weren’t expecting any deliveries at all. They both sat at the dining table as Michael placed the package in front of them. Addressed to Mr and Mrs M Grant, Barton House, Elwin Road, the parcel was undoubtedly for them. The postmark and date were smudged and unable to provide any clue to the origin of the package. Michael set about removing the cardboard outer packaging while Jennifer picked up the enclosed black leather bound Bible. It was, by all appearances, an old and somewhat well-used edition.
Astounded by this delivery, Jennifer looked at her husband, “Let’s open it!” The couple were excited but nonetheless apprehensive about what they may find. With her finger she opened the cover of the bible to reveal a message which had been inscribed in ink which looked very old although still legible.
“To Michael and Jennifer at Barton Boarding School for Boys
I wanted to welcome you to this noble building. What you learn here will never leave you but will enhance your life forever. I certainly never wish to leave it and I never will.
Yours respectfully, Thomas
Copyright © IanmAllan2024
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