The Ghosts of Woodcutters Cottage

By John Borrow

It was the perfect cottage, and the more Jason saw of it and its 16-acre grounds the more he liked it and wanted it.

But the seller, Joseph Abraham, was a little unusual and his wife was even odder, and the conditions attached to the sale were also very unusual. Perhaps the cottage really was haunted, but even if it was, would that really cause Jason a problem? A ghost or two could not possibly hurt him... could they?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Strict Publishing International
• Release date: Aug 26, 2015
• ISBN: 9780857793898

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The Ghosts of Woodcutters Cottage

by John Borrow

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2015 John Borrow

Published by Strict Publishing International

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

CHAPTER ONE

We had parted, Sally and I. Ten years of what I thought was a happy marriage had suddenly come to an end. She had met another guy in the offices where she worked as a solicitor and had fallen in love with him. It came as a total shock when she told me; I had no idea that she was seeing him. The late nights working and weekends spent with her sister in Scotland all seemed so natural and innocent that the thought of infidelity never entered my head. She remained the loving and affectionate wife right up to that awful night when she confessed and said she wanted a divorce.

I wanted to kill the man who had destroyed my life. I wanted him to hurt like I was hurting but after my initial anger subsided and reason took over, I realised that he was not entirely to blame. It takes two to make love. Sally was a beautiful woman, twenty-nine years old, successful and confident. She turned heads wherever she went. I am sure she was coveted by lots of men, both single and married. I had always considered myself lucky to be married to her. She was at ease in all company and able to converse with anyone on all manner of subjects. Whereas, in comparison, I was a builder, rough around the edges and prone to make coarse jokes at some of the more refined functions we attended in relation to her work.

On reflection, I guess the break-up was inevitable. She came from a well to do family who lived in a million-pound-plus house in Chelsea, and I was brought up in a children’s home and had had to count the pennies most of my life. Our wedding had cost an absolute fortune, paid for entirely by her father who never let me forget it. Things had improved considerably of late though, since I started my own building business. I employed three men full time and had numerous sub-contractors working for me. We had a new car every year and expensive holidays, but I suppose these things were ordinary to Sally. She had always lived a life of luxury.

Most of the parting was amicable, all except the finance side. She said she wanted half of everything, including our house, and as I had no money to buy her share and she had the legal know-how I had to agree and we placed it on the market. She wanted our parting to be completed as quickly as possible and to that end, as she was doing the conveyancing, I was forced to accept a much lower offer than the house was worth. It turned out that it had been sold to the man she had been unfaithful with, a certain Harold Varney, which hurt me badly. To this day I am still unable to understand why she chose to treat me so unfairly but she did. She even charged me half the conveyance fee at the standard rate.

After all the animosity that followed the financial settlement, I came out of it with very little money to start a new life, and having no parents to turn to for help I ended up renting a small flat. I was devastated. After starting from absolutely nothing I had worked my way up to a nice, detached, three bedroomed home, a prosperous building business, money in my pocket and a beautiful wife. To suddenly be plunged into a new way of life that I hated due to no fault of my own was devastating. It was losing Sally that hurt the most, and I sank into a deep depression that only made things worse. It was not the sort of depression that you go to the doctor with for pills. It was just that I suddenly realised all my efforts to make a better life for myself had really been to make a better life for Sally, and now that she had gone there did not seem much point.

I stayed this way for three months or more, until one day I woke up and my mind was clearer. The pain had eased somewhat. I started that day as if it was the start of my new life. I had a clear vision of what I wanted to do, the first thing being to buy my own house again and get my business, which had suffered considerably during my depression, running smoothly once more. I sat at my desk and waded through all the paperwork that had been neglected. I felt good, my mind was focused, I sailed through all the urgent things, completed three quotations that were overdue and posted them all by three o’clock.

Next stop was the estate agents to see if, by some miracle, I had enough money to put a deposit on a cheap house. I did not. Sally had drained me dry. I did not owe any money and the business was doing reasonably well, considering the neglect, but I still needed a good deal more than I had. I set myself a target of one year to save enough for a deposit, and I put my name down on all local estate agents’ lists with details of what I wanted. Because of my shortage of cash and because I was a builder, I asked for a property that needed some improvement work, and even if it was derelict that would be okay.

I worked hard for the next six months, following up every single enquiry and sending out quotations in record time. I tried to devote every minute of every day to earning money to buy a new home, which mainly I achieved, but when I finally went to bed at night the real reason for my concentration on work and money came back to haunt me: Sally. It was during those long, lonely hours at night when her face would suddenly flash before me and I found it difficult not to sink back into despair. The truth was that I still loved her and, sad as it sounds, I would take her back tomorrow if I could.

My mobile rang. It was an estate agent.

I think we’ve found a property that might interest you. It’s just come on the books in the last few minutes. If you can, I suggest you come round to the offices today, before we send it out to anyone else. It’s quite unique.

Give me half an hour to finish what I’m doing and I’ll be with you, I said.

I felt excited. Something was telling me this was the break I had been hoping for. The estate agent was beaming when I arrived. I think he could sense a quick sale. He offered me the details, and I sat down and began reading.

I immediately thought of you when the details came in, he said. I haven’t seen it myself yet, but it’s in a pretty poor state of repair, by all accounts. It’s pretty much out in the sticks; nice name though – Woodcutters Cottage – conjures up all sorts of homely thoughts.

I like it, I said. Can I see it now?

"I’ll have to phone the vendor – Mr Abraham. He’s put a condition of sale that he must meet the purchaser first before any agreement is made. I’ll give him a ring.

Mr Abraham was in, and agreed to meet us at the property in thirty minutes time. I wondered why the vendor insisted on meeting the purchaser. Perhaps he was one of those people who would only sell to someone he liked, or someone of the same religion or something. It did not matter. I had a good feeling about this property and I was tingling with excitement.

Mr Abraham was waiting for us when we arrived. He struck an odd figure, a good six feet tall and wearing a tall, conical hat with a round, flat rim that must have added another eight inches or so to his height. He had a long grey beard and his hair was shoulder length. He also had a gold tooth and really piercing blue eyes that seemed to look right through me. On each hand he wore three gold rings that were much too chunky for his bony fingers. He reminded me of a wizard from my childhood comic.

He offered his bony hand.

Pleased to meet you, he said.

Likewise, I replied.

He showed us around the property. It was certainly in need of repair, but the more I saw the more I liked it. There were three bedrooms, all very big, and the lounge diner was enormous. Three very fluffy cats lay curled up together in an old well-worn leather armchair with scratch marks on two of its legs and, unlike the property, the cats looked well cared for. I stroked them each in turn and they purred loudly and rubbed around my legs. I like cats, and they seem to like me. The kitchen was of a good size, although it was obvious that it had not been used for a long time. The paintwork looked tired and some of the wall tiles had come loose. There were corners where spiders had been allowed to form their webs, and judging by the numerous carcasses of their victims this was not a recent event. In fact, the whole property looked deserted. The garden was a wilderness where roses and elderberries fought for space while smaller shrubs were being strangled by a mass of grasses and columbine. It was impossible to see where the boundaries were, if there had ever been any. The property was set in the middle of a totally neglected wood.

Well, what do you think of it? Mr Abraham asked.

I like it. I like it a lot and I’d love to buy it, but the only trouble is the cost. I’m about twenty grand short, and there’s no way that I could get a mortgage on it in this condition. I’ll try to raise the money somehow, but I’m not very hopeful.

If you want to buy it, come and see me tomorrow and I’ll give you a complete tour of the grounds. There’s around sixteen acres, as I remember, and there are a lot of other things we will have to discuss but that’s best done in private between ourselves.

He looked across to the estate agent. Don’t worry, he said. You’ll get your commission on the sale just the same.

He looked back at me and held out his bony hand. Ten o’clock tomorrow morning then, and don’t worry about the finances. I’ll make sure you’ll be able to purchase the place, as long as you can agree to the other conditions. We can discuss them tomorrow.

I shook his hand firmly. Thank you, sir, I said.

He smiled, and his gold tooth glinted in the sunlight like a toothpaste advert. You can call me Joseph, he said. And your name is?

Jason. Jason Sinclair

’Til tomorrow then, Jason.

CHAPTER TWO

It was difficult to get through the rest of the day without thinking about Joseph Abraham and Woodcutters Cottage. The price was really cheap. In better times I would have bought it there and then on the spot without looking at the further sixteen acres. There had to be a catch somewhere; the whole scenario seemed strange. Joseph Abraham was an oddball, to say the least. It had to be that there were conditions he was placing on the sale, probably some ridiculous covenant that made it impossible to buy. I would find out more tomorrow.

That night I could not get to sleep for thinking about tomorrow’s meeting. Each time I drifted off I had visions of Joseph Abraham. Sometimes he would appear dressed in a smart suit sitting at my desk holding out a gold pen for me to sign something and smiling. Another time he appeared as a wizard, dressed in a flowing robe decorated with stars, waving his magic wand and saying, ‘your wish is granted.’ He was still smiling. He was always smiling.

I awoke suddenly feeling quite refreshed and excited. It was six o’clock, and only four hours before the mystery would be solved. As I ate my usual bowl of porridge, I realised that last night was the first night I had slept without thoughts of Sally interrupting my slumbers. Perhaps I had got over her at last; perhaps I was free from her spell and could live my life happily without her. It was a strange feeling knowing that at last I might be free, yet deep down inside of me I did not want to be. It still hurt, but not as badly as it used to. I tried to cling on to the feeling of this deep love I had had for Sally for ten blissful years. I tried to re-live those happy memories. I tried to visualise her beautiful face and realised I could not. She had gone.

Joseph was waiting for me when I arrived. He looked different from the last time we met, now dressed in an old pair of jeans tied up with a bit of baling twine, and wellies. His hat was missing and his long grey hair had been tied back in a bun, and he had trimmed his beard to half its original length. His beaming smile was still there, along with the aura of mystery that surrounded him.

Come in, Jason, and let’s see if we can do business.

There was a pile of papers on the table and he signalled for me to take a seat.

I expect you’ve been wondering about the conditions I’ve set out for you, he said.

I certainly have, I replied.

Well, first of all, let me explain why the house is up for sale. I am the fifth generation of my family to live here. Each generation has passed it on to the eldest son, but unfortunately my wife and I were never blessed with children so at the end of our time the property would end up in the care of others. My wife was taken ill three years ago and it became more and more difficult to care for her in such a remote place. Reluctantly, we made the decision to relocate to a more suitable area and since then the property has been empty, apart from the cats. That’s condition number one. You would have to take on the care and attention of three cats.

That’s easy. I love cats. It’s a perfect place for them to live.

Good. I could see when you first saw them that you liked cats and, more to the point, they liked you. Condition number two was that I could only sell to someone to whom I took a liking, and obviously you’ve passed that obstacle or we wouldn’t be sat here now. There are other conditions, but I must ask you a few questions first.

Fire away. I’m intrigued, I said.

Okay. Well, as I told you there are about sixteen acres to the property, all of it woodland and brambles. What would you do with it?

That’s easy, I said. I would cut a pathway through it, two mower’s width, dig the roots out, and eventually I would be able to mow it now and then. I would then be able to use it and enjoy it. I’d cut back some trees occasionally for log fires but I wouldn’t change it, hardly at all. Perhaps I’d plant masses of daffodils and snowdrops, things that would come up every year and multiply

You’ve passed condition number three, he said. I could only sell to someone who wouldn’t change the landscape too much. Next question, and it might sound silly, but are you afraid of the dark?

Not in the slightest. In fact, I love the dark. If I lived here I would spend a lot of my spare time in the evenings walking through the woods. It would be heaven. But why do you ask? Is that a condition?

It’s not an absolute condition but it would make living here more difficult if you were scared of the dark, as most people seem to be. With the property set in the middle of the woods you don’t suffer from light pollution like you do in densely populated areas. When it gets dark here, it gets really dark. It’s sometimes difficult to see your hand in front of your face. Also there are strange noises at night time that could be quite scary.

That’s great. Next question.

Do you believe in ghosts?

I’ve never really thought about it. That’s not a condition, is it?

Not an exact condition but a factor in my decision, so think about it now.

That’s difficult to answer really. I’m not sure whether ghosts even exist. I’ve never seen one, but that doesn’t mean they don’t. I’ve got an open mind on the subject.

Let me put it another way. If you did see a ghost would you be scared?

Scared? Why should I be scared? If they do exist, I can’t see that they would want to harm me or could do me harm even if they wanted to. No, I wouldn’t be scared in the slightest; intrigued would be more to the point.

That’s good. That’s the attitude I was hoping for. I can tell you now, young man, ghosts do exist, most definitely.

Are you saying there are ghosts in the cottage?

Oh yes. Well, one, anyway, but we can come back to that later. Next question: I suspect you’re not married, but do you have any children?

My mind drifted back to Sally and suddenly I realised that I couldn’t remember what she looked like.

No to both questions. I was married for ten years. My wife was a career-orientated lady, so we didn’t have any children. She left me for a work colleague last year

I could see you’ve had some troubles in your life recently. Do you intend to marry again? Would you like to have children?

That’s a big question, Joseph. I’m still hurting too much from my last marriage to be able to answer that truthfully.

Try.

Well, I guess I always wanted children, but Sally wanted to wait. I realise now that she had no intention of having children ever. I was so in love with her that I always agreed to everything she wanted. Pretty stupid, eh?

I wouldn’t go that far, Joseph replied. Love is a pretty strong emotion, very difficult to understand or control. Would I be right in thinking that if you met the right young lady, and she was willing, you would want children?

In those circumstances, yes, most definitely, but I couldn’t accept having children as one of your conditions. Who can foresee the future? I may not meet the right person or even be able to father a child.

That’s an honest answer. It’s not a condition of mine. It’s more a question of understanding what sort of person you are.

We talked for an hour or more. Joseph was obviously trying to find out as much as he could about me and he was very clever at doing so. I was finding out things about Joseph also, and for some reason I felt wary of him. He was obviously a man of strong principles, good principles, but he did not criticise others who did not share them. He seemed to be wealthy but cagey about his occupation. Although his hair and beard were grey, I guessed he was in his mid-fifties. He was tall and lean, with a healthy complexion normally obtained by working outside or perhaps by an exercise regime. I could see that he was still very much in love with his wife. She had been his first and only love and I envied him.

Okay, Jason, he said. I think I’ve taken up enough of your time for today. Are you still interested in buying the cottage?

Even more so, I replied. If there are other things you want to discuss, I’ve got all day to spend here. I’ve left instructions with my workers what I want done today. They’re a good bunch of lads and I can trust them to do a day’s work when I’m not there.

In that case we’ll take a walk round the grounds. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.

He led me to a tumbledown shed that was covered in ivy and creepers and invited me in, closing the door behind him. There were all sorts of implements in there, gathering dust and cobwebs, frozen in time. The only piece of machinery that looked as if it was used and cared for was a sit-on mower. It seemed out of place in this time warp shed. At the back of the shed, hidden behind some old panelling was another door. Joseph opened it and beckoned me through. I stood there amazed, bewildered and totally dumbstruck. I was looking at the picture in my mind that I had given to Joseph when he asked me what I would do with the land. A pathway had been cut through the shrubbery and brambles, and