Caitlin Wants

By Rachel Jane

Fairfield Manor. Secluded, remote and beautiful to the unsuspecting. A timely Edwardian estate that has seen its fair share of trials and successes, but like every house it has a story to tell. Within the walls of Fairfield Manor lies a dark secret so shocking and horrific even the most courageous can’t fathom its true nature.

Anna Newman and her brother become the newest residents to Fairfield after an inexplicable accident claimed the life of their only Aunt and her family. Anna felt a strange, unnerving presence about the house from the moment she first entered the rambling old estate. Now, things were beginning to happen that couldn’t be explained.

She was not alone and Anna knew she was being stalked. Her every move watched from within the recesses of the desolate mansion. When Anna decides to look closer at the history of Fairfield Manor a shocking secret is exposed, revealing the identity of the mysterious house guest. A terrifying manipulation begins to get what she wants.

• Language: English
• Publisher: ALLURIAN PUBLICATIONS
• Release date: Mar 8, 2016
• ISBN: 9781310608865

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All rights reserved© Allurian Publications 05/02/2016

All text written in this manuscript is copyright and protected under the Copyright Act 1968. All text written in this manuscript is strictly and solely owned by the Author Rachel Jane. No part may be reproduced, copied, scanned, stored in a retrieval system, recorded or transmitted in any forms or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher Allurian Publications.

Names, characters and places contained in this manuscript are all fictitious and are nothing more than the graphic content inside the author’s imagination.

Copyright© Rachel Jane 05/02/2016.

Full acknowledgement and contractual rights are asserted to the Author Rachel Jane under copyright laws at all times.

First Published by Allurian Publications 2016. All rights reserved.

Allurian Publications, Melbourne Victoria. Australia.

Book design; Alana J McKenzie.

Cover design & Illustrations by Alana J McKenzie.

Cover Art protected under Copyright by Allurian Publications.

www.allurianpublications.com

For Spook & Lama

It has been an honour and a privilege

To watch you both grow

The depth of inspiration you’ve given

You’ll probably never truly know.

Thank you.

And to my Mum....I love and miss you every single day.

To Kenny,

The most frustrating yet inspiring man I have ever met. Some days, you can truly bring out the horror in me and other days…well your just perfection. Thank you for all your efforts, support and advice. Most importantly, thank you for being you. You’re an incredible inspiration, I’m blessed to know you. Walk with your head held high my love, because that’s where you belong. RJ.

CHAPTER ONE

Laura Jamison listened to her sons upstairs. The screaming and running at full pace through the house, tiny feet thudding on wooden floorboards, thumping and banging with each footstep, the sound was frustrating. Pulling another handful of dry washing from the clothes dryer, Laura sighed and prayed for a break in the weather. The boys could finally get out of her hair. Take their infernal screaming and whining outside to exhaust themselves for just half an hour, so she could sit and let her throbbing headache subside. She had woken at seven am, a full hour after her husband Ian had left on his daily commute to the city for his work. She’d been vomiting on the hour since and her headache had intensified tenfold.

Hearing the obnoxious loud shrill of the telephone ringing upstairs in the kitchen, Laura sighed, quickly she pulled the remaining clothes out of the dryer then hurried up the fifteen stairs from the basement to the kitchen.

‘Hello?’

‘Hi honey, how’s your day going?’ Ian Jamison spoke.

‘Hi babe. Well, its cold wet and windy, the boys are racing around the house like crickets on steroids and I feel like I’ve been hit by a bus....so yeah, my day is great so far...how about you?’ Laura told her husband as she placed the washing basket onto the dining table then leant against the doorframe that separated the kitchen into the hallway.

‘No news yet. Dunstan has already been in for his interview with Fletcher. He came out all smiles and looking quite pleased with himself. Smug bastard, Jesus I hate that prick. Well, if he gets the job in Boston, at least the office here will be more pleasant to work in.’ Ian Jamison said to his wife. His tone sounded annoyed yet tinged with apprehension.

‘Honey, don’t think the worst yet. There are still two full days of interviews for the Boston job and you have just as much chance as anyone else, so be positive!’ Laura said sympathetically to her anxious husband. She knew this promotion from the Baltimore office to Boston would be a huge gain for them both, financially, physically and mentally.

‘I’m trying, but that smug bastard keeps looking at me through his office window and smiling like a cat that just ate the canary.’ Ian responded with contempt in his tone.

‘Just ignore him hon, he’s a dope. We both know he couldn't count to twenty without both hands and a calculator, so let him have his glory. Hey boys? Can you keep the decibels down please? Mommy’s on the phone!’ Laura shouted to her unruly sons as they ran past her into the kitchen.

Ian Jamison laughed at his wife’s comments. She was so dry and brutal in some of her remarks, one of the many reasons why he loved her so much.

‘Hey boys! If you can pipe down for just five minutes, Mommy will make you toasted sandwiches and chocolate milkshakes for lunch and you can watch the Transformers DVD....again.’ Laura called to her sons. She heard loud cheers of excitement and the screaming finally subsiding.

‘Oh Yay! Transformers again! Does the trick every time!’ Laura laughed sarcastically into the phone. Ian laughed with his wife.

‘Ok honey, well you take it easy while the boys are watching their Transformers. I will be out of here by five this afternoon, so I should be home by six. Hey, did you call your mom?’

‘Yes! She’s fine with us living with her if you get the Boston job. As you can imagine she is very excited about her grandchildren coming to live with her, said we can have the entire top floor of the house! How cool is that huh? We can introduce ourselves around town as Lord and Lady Jamison of Fairfield Manor! Oh yeah, I like the sound of that!’ Laura Jamison began to laugh with her husband.

Several minutes of pleasant conversation passed between the high school sweet hearts before Laura heard the boys begin to fight in the lounge room, yet again. She sighed into the receiver.

‘Ok honey, we will see you tonight. I best go and put this movie on for the boys or they will tear the house down to the foundations.’

‘Ok babe. I will see you at six. Love you.’ Ian Jamison bid farewell to his wife.

Laura Jamison returned the receiver to its cradle then spent the afternoon cooking toasted sandwiches for her twin boys and snoozing on the lounge. She awoke feeling the soft touch of her husband’s finger running down her cheek.

‘Hey beautiful.’

‘Oh hi honey. What time is it? I must have really bombed. I’m sorry.’ Laura Jamison opened her eyes to find her husband kneeling in front of her. The twins, Ryan and Daniel had become instant angels and were sitting quietly on the end of the sofa. Laura began to rise from her slumber position but Ian put a hand on her shoulder urging her to rest. She looked tired and worn.

‘No, you stay right there. We will dine in front of the box tonight. I picked up some Chinese on the way home and a bottle of bubbly.’

‘Bubbly?’ Laura smiled at Ian. He was such a caring thoughtful husband, one of the many reasons why she loved him so much.

‘Yes bubbly. Tonight, we celebrate! I’ll get us a glass and some plates for grub.’ Ian Jamison walked into the kitchen. His sons followed, eager to monopolize his attention for whatever reason. Laura watched as her husband walked into the kitchen and gave both boys plastic plates and cups to carry. She admired the way he controlled their boys with precision and calm. No screaming, yelling or fighting. Just calm order. She would kill to have that much control over her hyperactive sons instead of the daily warzone she coped with.

‘So your mom is fine with us taking over the top floor of the house huh?’ Ian said as they sat on the sofa in front of the television, eating Chinese and sipping champagne from plastic cutlery, watching another re-run of Transformers.

‘Yeah, she said she never uses the top area of the house and of course she would love the company.’

‘Great, perhaps you can ring her and ask if she would help you pack and stuff. We’ve only got two weeks.’ Ian said dryly as he casually spooned another mouthful of the delicious fried rice into his mouth then waited for his wife to catch onto what he had just said.

‘Yeah, she has already said she would love to come and....wait...what?’ Laura looked at her husband in shocked surprise. Ian began to laugh. He could not hold his news inside any longer.

‘I got the job babe! I start in three weeks!’ Ian cried to his wife. They hugged and kissed tenderly on the sofa. The boys ignored the laughter and commotion from their parents. They were used to it. The Jamison family spent the night dining on Chinese and watching the boys’ favorite movie on the television. Later, after the boys had finally gone to bed for the night, Laura and Ian Jamison had sex on the sofa. They loved each other with tenderness and passion. One of the many things, in their ten-year marriage that remained strong and vigorous, sex and laughter. They had both and lots of it.

Two weeks until moving day passed quickly. Ian Jamison loaded the final cardboard moving box into the rear of the U-Haul truck. He sighed with relief when the heavy metal doors of the trailer slammed shut. Moving day was upon them. He was looking forward to the peaceful ambiance of New Hampshire. His new position at Waterford & Blake’s upstate offices would ensure his weekends were free, far shorter commute time and a shit load more pay. Life was good, especially now Laura was expecting again. The confirmation had come at three thirty yesterday afternoon and both were excited and overjoyed. But secretly, both prayed for a single birth and both hoped for a little girl.

‘You ready to go honey?’ The sound of his wife’s voice bought Ian Jamison out of his daydream and back into reality. He turned and smiled at her.

‘I surely am my love! Boys all strapped and packed?’

‘Strapped and packed! And eagerly awaiting the chariot master! Come, my daring white knight, let us feed them and they will fall into deep cosmic slumber for the next eight hours and peace and serenity shall return to the temporarily insane once more!’ Laura joked with her husband.

Clever and always calculating her next plan of action, Laura had deliberately woken the boys at six am on the morning of the move. Tiring the boys out before lunch was always a good plan for a road trip, especially one as long as they would now embark on. Like most children, Ryan and Daniel usually fell asleep on the return journey of a road trip. Having an extra early morning then a good feed of greasy carbohydrates for lunch ensured the boys would fall into a deep slumber for many hours, allowing the adults to finally have their definition of ‘alone’ time.

‘I can't believe this day is here. It’s onwards and upwards babe! Want to take a minute and say goodbye to our old dingy cramped house before we head off into the wild blue yonder?’

Laura turned and looked at the front facade of 226 Dennison Road. Mission-brown colored shingles on the external walls, white framed windows and shutters, a basement that was bigger than the upstairs living and sleeping areas and a kitchen that could fit no more than one person at a time, she had loathed this tiny Hansel and Gretel house since the day after they had moved in. No, under no circumstances was she going to miss the tiny two-bedroom house, none.

‘Yeah no, I’m good to go thanks.’ Laura said dryly and walked to the passenger side of the four-wheel drive. Ian followed his wife, catching her before she sat into her seat.

‘Oh come on honey, it hasn’t been that bad.’ Ian Jamison laughed as he held his wife in his arms. Laura kissed her husband tenderly on the lips then turned and looked at the front of 226 Denison again.

‘Hmm, like I said, I’m good to go.’

Ian Jamison kissed his wife on the lips and laughed. Slapping her hard on the backside, Ian walked to the driver’s side of the SUV and got into the driver’s seat.

‘Yay! We’re going!’ The boys cried with excitement as Ian Jamison started the powerful V8 engine.

‘Ok boys, let’s hit the road!’ Ian cheered in excitement with his sons. They were looking forward to the move to Laura’s mothers in New Hampshire as much as they were. For the boys, the move to New Hampshire represented space and freedom to grow. Fairfield Manor, a sprawling fifty-acre estate nestled amongst the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains. A six bedroom, three bathrooms, two storey Edwardian styled mansion, built by Governor McLeod and his wife in 1865.

The Manor had seen many owners over the past hundred and sixty years or so. Five generations of McLeod’s before poor business ventures and bankruptcy forced the selling to a family from the southern states. Ten years on, the Manor became a deceased estate then sold to Jonathon and Iris Glover who restored the Manor to somewhat partial supremacy, before the estate became a deceased estate again. Only this time, the mansion sat vacant for several years before being purchased in 1963 by state revenue for the purposes of a state run orphanage.

Fairfield Manor became the state run institution for illegitimate minors and delinquents. Slowly, over the next thirty years the facility ran into a serious state of disrepair as it tried to cope with disgraceful mismanagement, gross under funding and finally, insolvency. To the locals, while only operational for six years, Fairfield Manor required serious investigation. Suspicious disappearances and unexplained allegations of mistreatment of several young children ordered by state law be incarcerated at Fairfield.

Elisabeth Norrington, a born and bred Hampshire resident had lived all of her seventy-nine years in the family home next door to Fairfield. She had complained on many occasions to local and state authorities about the terrible marks and bruising she had often seen on the children of the orphanage. But her complaints had always fallen onto deaf ears. She had seen many children come and go at Fairfield, some so badly covered in bruising and welt marks they could hardly walk. Others simply disappeared, vanishing, without trace or investigation, never to be seen again. Elisabeth prayed the children had simply been fostered out to loving homes or had run away. But instinct had always screamed at her, something far more sinister was happening to these poor unfortunates.

For the Jamison’s, the long haul to New Hampshire would take eight hours. Their possessions, following in the U-Haul, they would not see again until tomorrow. For tonight they towed an eight by five trailer loaded with bedding, clothing, toys and personal valuables. This would suffice until the truck arrived the next day.

As predicted the boys slept for the entire road trip. Laura and her husband now had time to just talk. They loved these quiet moments, they talked, laughed and planned for the future, no interruptions, fighting or whining, it was true bliss. Thirty minutes outside New Hampshire County, the rain began to pour in heavy torrents. Given the extra tow load on the powerful four-wheel drive, the wind drag created by the squally conditions added an extra twenty minutes to their journey. At 8:45 pm, Friday, 22nd of July, the Jamison family pulled into the long driveway of Fairfield Manor. The glaring halogen beams pierced through darkness, highlighting the tall, thick trunked Oaks and Birches that lined the driveway leading to the mansion.

‘Well, here we are honey, home sweet home. Your mom is going to be so excited.’

‘You know it’s not too late to change your mind. We can skip through to Canada on this road if you’re having second thoughts about living with my mother.’ Laura joked in a dry tone.

‘Oh come on, your Mom is ok.’

‘I’m just giving you an alternative! Yeah, she’s not too bad as far as parents go. A little on the eccentric and odd side, but pretty cool. No wait, she is totally crackers!’ Laura laughed to her husband.

‘No, you have it good. My mother was the true definition of totally certifiable! Was the reason she was locked up in Arkham Asylum you know. Bet she had the cell right next door to The Riddler!’ Ian Jamison laughed. Laura slapped her husband lightly on the shoulder. Ian grabbed his wife’s hand and kissed her fingers as they both laughed.

‘That is so mean!’

‘Maybe so, but it’s true, every single word is true.’

‘It is so not true! How could you say such a thing?’

‘Easy! It’s all true. Trust me on this. She was a bona-fide section eight!’

‘Not true!’

‘True!’

Ian and Laura Jamison laughed and mocked each other playfully as they drove slowly up the four-hundred-foot long driveway. Nearing the mansion, soft lights glowed through the ten foot arched windows on the left side of the two storey mansion. Ian tooted the horn twice to announce their arrival. Within seconds, the front security lights of the mansion became illuminated, lighting the entire front facade of the elegant old building.

‘Whoa! It is bigger than I remember.’ Ian Jamison baulked as he sized up the towering mansion. Laura looked dryly at her husband as she reached for the handle of the passenger side door.

‘Shouldn’t that be my line?’ Laura retorted to her husband before stepping out of the vehicle. Ian Jamison took a second to reiterate what his wife had just said to him. Realizing her intended pun, he laughed and exited the driver’s door.

‘Hey woman, you could never have that line! I’m already too much for you to handle!’

‘Oh please! See, it’s that kind of delusional thought that will ensure you are the next family member to get a ticket to Arkham Asylum!’ Laura chided her husband then ran towards the front door of the mansion. Ian Jamison gave chase, catching her in his arms before she had taken four steps. The double front wooden doors to Fairfield Manor opened and out walked Isabelle Stanton. A smile of excitement instantly adorned her aging yet still graceful features.

‘Hello, my darlings! Oh it is so good to have you here!’ Isabelle Stanton cried with genuine pleasure as she hugged her daughter and son in law. At seventy-six, Isabelle Stanton was still very capable and in relatively good condition for her age. Aside from a slight heart weakening, she was still extremely fit and active. Electing to grow and maintain her own supply of fresh vegetables, fruits, eggs and meats, Isabelle Stanton believed the ever increasing high cancer statistics of the modern era could be firmly attributed to the excessive amounts of genetically modified produce consumers were forced into buying at the local supermarkets. A subject Laura had warned her husband to avoid at all costs.

‘Hi Ma. Look at you all rugged up!’ Laura hugged her mother tightly.

‘Well, look at this weather, it’s deplorable. Ian sweetheart! So glad you’re here!’ Isabelle Stanton cried. She hugged her son in law tightly, like she had not seen him for many months instead of the three days prior. Ian looked at his wife over Isabelle’s shoulder as he returned her embrace. Laura shrugged her shoulders, unable to explain the genuine raw emotion her mother was displaying.

‘The boys? Where are they dear?’

‘Sleeping peacefully in the car Ma. Thought we best organize some beds for tonight first. Otherwise, if we wake them now, they will be awake until the morning and that is never good for the adults.’

‘Yes, yes, of course dear. I have set up bedding in the living room for tonight. The top floor will be freezing, so I thought we could all camp out downstairs until we are all settled and your belongings arrive. Come have a look at what I have done for you.’

Laura and Ian followed Isabelle into the main foyer of the mansion. The entrance to Fairfield Manor was expansive with two gently curving staircases running upwards to the upstairs living quarters on either side of the foyer. A large, wood paneled shelving unit ran between the two stair cases with the main living room to the left and a library, bathroom and spare room to the right of the foyer. The massive kitchen area was neatly positioned to the left of the staircase, behind the main living room with access from the living room and separate doorways from small corridors that ran either side behind the staircases.

Up the staircase, a single corridor led from one staircase to the other providing dual access. Ten-foot-high, arched windows lined the left external wall with a double glass sliding door in the middle of the rear wall that led outside onto the rear balcony of the upstairs quarters. A central hallway ran off the entrance corridor which divided the bedrooms, three aside of the corridor. At the far end of the central hallway, past the bedroom and bathroom entrance doors, another horizontal corridor with more ten-foot-high arched windows, and a double glass sliding door leading outside to a front balcony that also ran the length of the mansion. At the end of the front corridor, on the left side, a wooden ladder led to the upstairs attic which covered the entire roof area of the mansion.

Walking into the main living area behind her mother, Laura Jamison saw Isabelle had neatly laid out several mattresses under the front arched windows of the living room. A large gold colored velvet settee was placed length ways in front of an unlit fireplace. Past that, a ten seat wooden dining table before a set of double swinging louvered doors that separated the living, dining and kitchen areas. Laura became troubled when she saw the fireplace sat cold and dormant on such a miserable rainy night.

‘Ma, why haven’t you got the fire lit? It’s freezing in here!’ Laura said to her mother as she hugged her again. Tears began to fall down Isabelle Stanton’s face.

‘I’m sorry dear...I....I didn’t think the weather would turn so quickly and I really struggle carting the wood to the house, two pieces at a time.’

‘Hey don’t cry Ma. It’s ok. Do you have any cut wood out near the back shed?’ as Laura spoke the cold vapors poured from her lips like an avalanche.

‘Yes, there is cut wood out the back. I will go and get some.’

‘No mother Stanton, I will go. You help Laura get the boys inside. I think there is a torch in the glove compartment.’ Ian Jamison spoke gently. Laura and her mother broke their embrace. Isabelle Stanton looked at her son in law with concern etched deeply on her face.

‘Perhaps we should all go and get some wood dear. You don’t really know your way around out back and it is frightfully wet and slippery out near the back shed.’

‘It’s fine Ma. Ian will be fine, he used to be the scout leader when he was a youngster. Did you know that?’ Laura joked with her mother trying to allay her emotions. Isabelle Stanton still looked very concerned.

‘That’s nice dear. I still don’t like him walking around outside in the dark. Here, I will turn on the back floodlights. It will give you some good light. I hope they still work though.’ Isabelle Stanton walked past the sofa and dining table into the dark, unlit kitchen.

‘Is your mother always so afraid of the dark?’ Ian Jamison joked to his wife.

‘Well no. She is acting a little peculiar. I can't believe she sits here in the cold with no fire going. It’s just not like her.’ Laura said to her husband as she zipped up the front of his jacket.’

‘Don't stress about it babe. We’ll have a fire going in no time. I’ll go out through the kitchen. You get the boys in and just what we need for tonight, we can get the rest tomorrow.’ Ian Jamison said as he finished buttoning the top layered buttons on his jacket. Kissing his wife on the forehead, Ian walked past the sofa into the kitchen. Isabelle Stanton stood at the half glass and timber rear door looking outside into the brightly lit back yard of the Fairfield Manor. Ian saw her head moving frantically from left to right as he approached her from behind.

‘Hey mother Stanton, why don’t you go and help Laura get the boys out of the car and into nice warm beds. I’ll have a fire going in no time.’

Isabelle Stanton flinched slightly at the sound of Ian’s voice then turned to face the tall well-built frame of her son in law. Ian saw the concerned look she wore, on her softly aged face in the living room, had now developed into full grown fear. The whites of her eyes were large and obvious. She was scared of something and it showed. Ian embraced his mother in law.

‘Mother Stanton, what is it? You look so worried!’

‘Please son, please be careful out there. We’ve had some...some reports of wild dog’s and mountain cats in these parts lately. Here, take my torch with you.’ Isabelle Stanton stuttered, anxiously, thrusting the heavy, long handled, torch into Ian’s hand.

‘Hey, come on now. I’m a big boy. I will be just fine. Look the rain has all but stopped for now and the lights shine right up to the wood pile. I’ll be back in a jiffy. You go and help Laura get the boys inside. Go on now.’ Ian Jamison spoke softly to his terrified mother in law.

Ian Jamison walked out through the rear kitchen door and stood on the large wooden deck that measured fifteen-foot-wide and ran the length of the mansion. To his right, a six seat outdoor setting sat isolated and soaked. The thick, floral colored cover that attempted to weatherproof the setting appeared torn and tattered and one of the cushioned sling back chairs lay on its side, a good meter from the main setting. Ian walked off the rear deck and headed over to a small, iron clad, single car shed thirty feet to his left. The soggy rain soaked ground sloshed and squished under foot as he carefully made his way to the darkened shed.

Flicking on the powerful beam of the torch, Ian saw inside the fifteen-foot-long structure. Piles of red gum firewood virtually filled the entire shed, all cut into various widths with lengths about a foot long. Using the powerful beam of the torch, Ian searched the inside of the small shed for any signs of an axe or wheel barrow. Seeing nothing, Ian walked to the right side of the two-meter-high pile of red gum and shone the beam to the rear wall of the shed. There, on top of the red gum pile, a wheelbarrow lying on its side with the bucket facing the rear wall. Carefully, Ian maneuvered around the edge of the firewood pile to retrieve the obscurely placed carrying tool.

Pulling the wheelbarrow off the top of the firewood pile, the metal frame and bucket clattered as he wrestled the reasonably new barrow over the jagged pile and down to where he stood. He shone the beam back up to the rear wall of the structure again and saw a long handled axe. Its partially rusted, heavy metal head wedged deep into the round wooden upright that formed part of the rear wall structure supporting the roof truss.

Carefully, Ian climbed on top of the pile, using his hands for support. He grabbed the handle of the axe attempting to remove it from the upright beam. The axe did not budge. The solid iron head was firmly embedded into the upright beam. Ensuring his footing was secured on the cut lengths of firewood, Ian carefully climbed a foot higher, maneuvering his torso on top of the cut pile. Stabilizing his position, he pulled on the axe handle with his right hand again. Still, the axe did not budge.

‘Jesus Christ Isabelle! You’ve been eating too many weetbix!’ Ian said as he grunted with exertion trying to free the deeply wedged axe head. Ian released his grip on the wooden handle then shone the beam of the torch onto the axe head. He could see the iron blade was buried deep inside the wooden beam.

‘My god, I’m living with wonder woman!’ Ian said in disbelief.

Ian lodged the metal end of the torch canister between two pieces of red gum, the beam shining directly onto the axe head. He carefully climbed to the top of the pile then positioned himself lying across the pile so he could use both hands on the handle and his feet on the wooden upright for leverage. Ian put his hands on the axe handle and both boots on the upright beam preparing to muscle the axe head free from the beam. Suddenly, he heard what sounded like deep exhalation breathes coming from behind him.

Ian froze. As he laid on his side, on top of the pile, his back to the side wall of the small shed, he saw in the torch beam that reflected off the iron cladding on the rear wall, a cold vapor of breath come over his shoulder and creep down over the skin of his neck. Someone was directly behind him and breathing over his shoulder!

Ian quickly spun his torso and head to look behind him. Nothing. There was no sign of anything or anyone behind him. Sighing with relief, Ian cautiously twisted his body back to his former position. He could feel the rough cut edges of the firewood cutting into his shoulder and rib cage as he pulled hard on the axe handle. Putting his boots either side of the axe head, Ian grunted again as he exerted considerable strength into freeing the firmly wedged handle. Finally, the axe blade came loose from the tightly packed constraints of timber and fell free onto the top of the pile.

Feeling a little spooked, Ian quickly descended the pile, the axe firmly in his grip. Throwing the axe and torch into the bucket, he grabbed the handles of the wheel barrow and walked backwards towards the front of the wood shed pulling the wheelbarrow as he walked. Ian set about cutting solid half cut lengths of red gum into smaller pieces. With each powerful swing, a loud whack cracked into the air as the red gum split and flew off either side of the chopping block. Within five or so minutes, he had half a barrow load cut. Bending to pick up another piece of the heavy timber and place it onto the chopping block, Ian heard a loud guttural screech coming from the dense woodlands surrounding Fairfield Manor. He stopped to listen to the high pitched scream, it echoed through the woodlands and bounced off the external cladding of the shed.

Suddenly, Ian heard the sound of sloshing and squishing footsteps behind him. Ian could feel his heart pounding heavily inside his chest. He was still a little freaked from his earlier encounter with what turned out to be nothing. The sloshing on the rain soaked ground came nearer behind him. Without thinking, Ian raised the axe above his head and quickly spun around to face whatever was creeping up behind him.

A beam of light streamed directly into his eyes, temporarily blinding him. Ian turned his face away from the beam. Then he heard Laura’s voice.

‘Hey whoa jungle Jim! It’s only me!’ Laura called, stopping in her tracks. The wild explosive look on her husband’s face as he turned to face her startled her. Ian sighed heavily then lowered the axe to his side.

‘Sorry babe. I’m seeing and hearing things. Freaked me out a little.’

‘Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.’ Laura joked walking closer to Ian. She could see he was shaken and disturbed.

‘Hey, what is it? The screaming noise you heard before was just a raccoon. They’re everywhere around here.’

‘Ok cool. Just freaked me out a little, felt like it was right behind me.’ Ian acknowledged. He wasn’t looking at Laura when he spoke, he was searching the darkened woodlands behind the Manor. His tone preoccupied and intense.

‘Hey your tired honey. Come on let’s get this wood and get inside it.’ Laura kissed her husband then began picking up smaller cut pieces of wood and throwing them into the wheelbarrow. They would be used as kindling to start the fire.

‘Hey where did you find the wheelbarrow? Ma said it was broken.’

‘I found it at the back of the pile with the axe. From what I can see, it works just fine. I’ll have a good look at things tomorrow.’ Ian replied returning his gaze from the woodlands to the pile and the job at hand before him.

Ian and Laura Jamison spent the next five minutes collecting enough wood to light the fire and keep it burning until morning. He was tired, he knew that. It had been a long day. A good night’s sleep would settle his uneasy feeling, an unmistakable feeling they were being watched.

CHAPTER TWO

4:35 am, Ian Jamison awoke suddenly. He blinked several times to gain clarity into his groggy, sleep filled, mind and eyes. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the night in the living room, he lifted his head from the pillow, realizing there was no glow from the fireplace and the room was freezing cold. The steam vapor from his warm breath hit the freezing temperature of the living room, pouring out of his mouth like a jet stream. The two-foot-high dancing flames of the fireplace, he’d built some six hours earlier, had burnt down to nothing more than a few smoldering embers in the bottom of the fire grate. Ian turned to his right, Laura was heavy in sleep. The covers pulled up closely around her neck. Looking behind him, where the boys were sleeping in a single mattress together, Ian saw they were also heavy into their sleep. The thick warm blankets covering them pulled down to their feet, exposing their young skin to the freezing night air inside the living room.

Ian got out of bed and walked over to the boy’s bed. Looking down at them, he saw they were deep in sleep. Their hands curled together up under their chins, signaling they were feeling the cold. Something caught his eye, Ian blinked heavily again trying to clear the sleep crust from his eyes, he looked down at the boys again. There, on the white sheeting, small black flecks of what looked like soot, covered the linen. Ian quickly dusted the flecks out of the bed then pulled the covers up around the boy’s necks, tucking the excess lengths of blanket under the mattress. Looking over to where Isabelle was sleeping, he could see she was tucked down deep under the covers. The only exposed part of his mother in law was the top of her curly grey hair. The blankets pulled in tightly around her body and face. Walking back to the fireplace, Ian quickly set about reigniting the fire before returning to the warmth of his bed, where he fell asleep again within minutes.

‘Daddy! Daddy! Wake up, wake up, wake up!’ Ryan Jamison called into his father’s ear. Ian woke to see his young son leaning over the edge of his bed, smiling at him.

‘Hi mate. How you doing buddy? Where’s mom?’

‘Mommy is in the kitchen with grandma. She says you have to get up now.’ Ryan said to his father. Ian propped himself up onto one elbow and looked at his wrist watch. Nine thirty am. He couldn't believe he’d slept that long. He couldn't recall a single time he had ever slept past seven thirty in the morning. Not even a blinding hangover that left him seriously seedy and feeling like he’d been run over by a truck, had he slept past seven thirty. Ian Jamison grabbed his young son in his arms and pulled him close to his chest, hugging the young boy tightly. Ryan began to squeal with laughter and wildly thrashed his legs.

‘I’m hungry! But I think I will just eat you for brekkie! You smell like bacon! Yum!’ Ian gently shook Ryan from side to side then roared like a ferocious monster pretending to start munching into the boy’s neck. Ryan squealed with delight, the feeling of his father’s unshaven cheek tickled roughly against the skin of his neck.

‘Ok buddy, go and tell mommy the hungry monster is coming to eat all her bacon. She better run and hide while she can or he might eat her too! Off you go.’ Ian said as he carefully placed his son back down onto the floor. Ryan ran laughing and screaming into the kitchen.

Ian sat on the side of the bed and looked around the living room of Fairfield Manor. The walls were scarcely decorated. On the side wall of the living room, several family photographs hung in different shaped and colored frames on the wall. A three-foot wooden cross with Jesus on the crucifix hung squarely in the middle of the wall. There were no other visible signs of decorations adorning any of the walls in the living room. Ian didn’t think too much of it as he stood and dressed in the jeans, shirt and jumper he’d worn the day before.

Walking to the three seat sofa before the fireplace, with his boots in hand, Ian noticed the fire had died down to a smoldering ember burn once again. He would definitely be finding the time today to investigate the chimney status of this fireplace, as well as surveying the wood shed and carting enough wood to stock the fireplace for several days, as well as unpacking and setting up the bedrooms upstairs and so many other things. Ian reminded himself, his day was going to be full on.

Sitting on the sofa, Ian began to pull on his hiking boots and tying the laces. The double, louvered, swinging doors, separating the kitchen from the living room, swung open with a distinct creak as the hinges moved. Ian looked behind him and saw the beautiful smiling face of his wife walking towards him. She was carrying a large white mug filled with coffee.

‘Hi honey. Sleep well?’ Laura said sweetly to Ian as she handed him the mug of coffee. He took a sip of the piping hot bittersweet liquid. As usual, made to perfection, just the way he liked it.

‘Yeah, ok. I woke this morning about four to find the fire had gone out. The boys were uncovered to their feet and freezing cold. Poor buggars. But other than that, I slept like a baby. How about you babe? Sleep well?’

‘Yeah, great sleep. It is really strange being back here though. The house and my mother are just not the same.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, as you can see, she has moved into this room permanently. She lives like a hermit now. It’s just not like her. There are no ornaments or pictures like there used to be. The house is virtually empty. It’s weird. I haven’t said anything yet but I think I’m going to have too. It’s just not right.’ Laura spoke with a look of concern etched into her face. Ian reached over and put his hand around the back of Laura’s neck pulling her closer to him then he kissed her.

‘Don't take this the wrong way honey, but elderly people do the strangest things sometimes. There are probably many valid reasons why. Let’s just get unpacked and settled then you and she can start catching up properly. You two haven’t really spent any quality time together for many years now. It will be good for you both to go out, have a few shopping days, lunches and all those girly things you need to do. It will be great for the both of you. Don’t you think?’ Ian said as he finished tying the laces to his boots. Laura leant over and kissed her husband on the cheek.

‘All true, my love. There are many valid reasons why I love you as much as I do. Thank you, you always seem to be able to put things into a clear perspective.’

‘Well hey woman, I’m not just a fine stunning specimen of male flesh, I do happen to have other outstanding qualities you know.’

Laura Jamison stood and walked behind the sofa. With her hands resting firmly on the back of the sofa, she sighed and rolled her eyes.

‘Well Supreme Being, come and have your breakfast before it gets cold. We need to refuel that over active imagination before your ego falls in to a state of total disrepair and suffers irreparable damage. Oh my god, the world will implode! The heavens will fall!’ Laura mocked her husband as she walked back towards the kitchen. Ian laughed at his wife’s derogatory retort. He stood and began to throw more kindling onto the slowly burning embers in the fire grate.

‘Hey honey? Don’t these old mansions have a central heating furnace?’ Ian called to Laura as she neared the swinging kitchen doors.

‘Yes, it’s down in the basement. I’m pretty sure it is a gas fired furnace. I’ll ask Ma.’ Laura turned and called to her mother in the kitchen. After a brief conversation with her mother, Laura turned and faced Ian with a perplexed look on her face.

‘Ahh well yes, it is a gas fired furnace but it appears to have run dry. I’ll ring Haby’s in town and see if they can come and fill it today.’ Laura rolled her eyes in dismay at Ian.

‘Ok cool.’ Ian smiled and stoked the fire.

After breakfast, Ian walked out through the rear kitchen door onto the decking. With a mug of coffee in his hand, Ian stepped onto the wooden deck and closed the door behind him. As he pushed the door closed, he noticed another small crucifix nailed to the top wooden panel of the door, above the glass. The crucifix rattled against the wood of the door as he closed the door against the jamb. Catching his eye, Ian looked down to where the decking boards ended at the kitchen entrance. There were several deep gouges into the wooden boards at the kitchen entrance. Ian bent down onto his knees to inspect the gouging. Six to eight deep gouge marks cut into the timber. Then he noticed the same gouging on the solid wooden paneling of the door, below the glass partition. Searching the door for more gouging, Ian saw the same deep marks dug into the wood near the round brass handle of the door. Being primarily born and raised in the city, Ian was fairly certain these were not the markings made by raccoons. He wondered if bears or mountain cats would have left the gouge marks. He remembered Mother Stanton’s warning from the night before about wild cats, it was possible, but instinct told him it was something else.

Looking over to the outdoor dining setting to his right, Ian saw the thick plastic cover had been almost completely shredded and torn. The shredding appeared to have been committed by the same perpetrator that had left the gouging at