The Twelfth of Never

By Rachel Shaw

Laurie's idyllic retirement in the Surrey hills is shattered by the unexpected appearance of a ghostly figure. If it had materialised just once, she could have written it off, but the ghost is persistent and his pleas for her attention grow more and more dramatic. Desperately craving sanctuary, she flees to the beautiful Italian countryside,

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rachel Shaw
• Release date: Sep 14, 2018
• ISBN: 9781912615551

Rachel Shaw

Rachel Shaw is an author and illustrator, and the communications officer for the Lincolnshire Wildlife Trust. In 2009, she was part of an exchange program organized between the UK and the Philippines by Rotary International and was able to see some of the incredible diversity of species on the country’s 7,107 islands. As she learned more about the animals, she began to record their stories through text and artwork. Her children’s book on pangolins was published in the Philippines in 2015 by The Bookmark, Inc. Today she is the creator of the heartwarming Instagram page pipisinpangolin. She lives in Lincoln, UK. 

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

AN UNEARTHLY VISITOR

Laurie realised a long time ago that life is full of mysteries. She had witnessed unusual events that seemed to occur randomly, but after having experienced coincidences that seemed unearthly in their timing and effect – where people had acted strangely and completely out of character, almost as if they were possessed – she felt these events were not so random, after all. Nevertheless, nothing could have prepared her for what happened one blissful spring day. What occurred then left a mark on her life and left her constantly asking why? It became almost a mantra – why had such an extraordinary experience happened to her?

It was the beginning of a strange and, from time to time, bewildering year, which though harrowing at times, revealed a much deeper dimension to our existence in this world. Although a great deal of what seemed incomprehensible then has now been made clear, Laurie can still feel a sense of mystery and wonder when she recalls that time of her life. It is now eight years since that day and it remains fresh in her memory.

The sun was shining and the blue skies were a perfect backdrop to the view across the valley from the peace of the ivy canopied patio of the friendly bar and pizzeria that was Laurie and her husband Mark’s favourite spot to laze and read during quiet lunchtimes in their sleepy Italian village. Having eaten earlier, they sat with their wine and books taking in the panorama that never failed to thrill.

Panicale perched high on the flat top of a distant hill, seemed to shimmer in the heat of the day; just one of the many small medieval towns that are a magnet for the eager travellers that flock to the region. Rich in the history and beauty that comes with a fertile and rich green landscape, Umbria is tranquil and less ‘touristy’ than its neighbours. A slow walk took them back to their traditional stone and brick house which with its beamed ceilings and arched doorways, was the very essence of the old village, little of which remained.

Laurie was slow as she had injured her back moving a large planter in their walled courtyard and had cursed herself for punching above her weight. A stupid move, but it was done now and there was little point in pondering on and regretting her impetuous actions. Mark went ahead to take his customary afternoon nap, so Laurie ambled along and into the house but with an odd feeling of being followed; a sense that a shadow just outside her line of vision had entered the scene. Laurie looked around but the road was deserted. As ever, the village was silent during siesta time. She shivered but told herself she was imagining things. The house was very cool with its thick walls so entering it was bound to chill her after the hot sun.

Prior to the hot and sunny weather, it had been cold and windy with heavy downpours that turned the village road into a river. Laurie and Mark’s house had a basement that boasted a domed brick ceiling and a stone well in the far corner. The house was very old, the equivalent of a listed building as their updating and additions had been subject to strict regulations and restrictions. This well had doubtless served a number of the houses that had once lined the road but progress had altered the living arrangements with separate units being created, so they had the only access to this spring water source.

A pump had been installed as the well was fed continuously by the underground spring and a cement floor had been laid in its base at least 20 feet below the concrete basement floor at some stage. Always cold and quite damp, the area was useful as a wine cellar and was well lit but nevertheless, Mark would not venture there and no amount of assurance would change his mind. It fell to Laurie to check there had been no massive increase in the volume of water following torrential rains and the pump was still in place and fully functioning. A flood down there would have been a nightmare to clear up.

As Laurie made her way down the basement stairs she again felt the presence of a shadowy figure. It almost touched her and she stood stock still as the shadow moved past, then in front of her, gliding down the stairs, a phantom-like figure of a man that slipped across the basement floor and disappeared into the brick wall above the well just as she arrived at the bottom step.

Realising she had been holding her breath, Laurie exhaled staring at the blank space where the figure had been, shocked to the core. Unsure of what to do, she speedily checked that all was working as it should do in the well and the water level was correct, and then quickly climbed the stairs, closing firmly behind her the cantina door. This led to the basement stairs and opened straight into the dining room. Still shocked she made her way in a daze out into the courtyard and just sat there while her mind tried to absorb what she had seen, as common sense rejected it.

Deciding not to tell her husband, who she didn’t doubt would scoff at her and tell her it was her imagination coupled with the shadows in the cellar, despite it being lit, Laurie resolved to put the whole episode out of her mind. But what was beneath the concrete at the bottom of the well, she surmised?

It would have been just earth as the basement originally had an earth and brick floor and the well would have been far deeper to allow the underground spring to keep it replenished. Perhaps there had been an accident long ago which had led to the decision to put the concrete floor in to reduce the depth. The wall around the well with its brick foundations was not particularly high, and there were indentations in the internal wall, perhaps footholds, so it was possible to inspect it.

Then Laurie recalled a story she had heard of the skeletons of World War II combatants being found in the basement of a small house in the next village when it was being refurbished by the owners who she knew. Laurie decided then that perhaps someone had died in this basement, maybe during that time or much earlier, after hiding in the well and losing their footing. She decided to light votive candles in the small alcove in the cellar, in the house itself and in the church, to calm any uneasy soul that may reside in the walls. At the same time, she resolved to ask the local priest to bless the house to rid it of any malign influences.

Laurie shook herself and prepared to get ready to meet friends for her pre-birthday dinner. Born on the 16th of April, she had not been registered until the 18th as was common in wartime and it suddenly occurred to her that this was the 16th, her real birthday. What a gift, another grey hair! The remainder of their trip passed peacefully enough, but the episode had quietly slid into her consciousness and Laurie could not quite shake the feeling that the shadow was never far away and she made any further trips into the basement as quickly as possible armed with a torch for added light. The votive candle was replaced regularly in the cellar and one was left burning on departure.

Mark being Catholic had no objection to the candles so didn’t query Laurie lighting them and the keys were handed to the kind neighbour who would check that all was well in their absence. All in all, it had been a relaxing trip aside from Laurie’s back problems. As May drew to a close and the heat was rising to an uncomfortable level, Laurie looked forward to returning to their village house high on the ridge of the South Downs and to being with friends and neighbours again. How fortunate she felt at having the best of two wonderful worlds.

CHAPTER 2

APPARITION MAN

Life was busy socially following their return from Italy and Mark and Laurie had settled back quickly into their usual routine spending time with their lively circle of friends. They had arrived home in time for the crowning of the May Queen on the Green, a lovely tradition much enjoyed by all the residents and visitors from nearby. Later, when the summer had arrived, there was much distraction with the warm sunny weather, village fair and other local festivities. August was a busy time when Mark and Laurie slowly collected books and other necessities to send to Italy in readiness for their next three-month stay there.

Content and relaxed, Laurie was lying in bed happily listening to the birds as they began their morning chorus. The room was bright and sunny at around 6am. One bird, in particular, led the song and nothing broke the peace of a glorious summer morning. The village deep in the heart of Surrey was peaceful, and their cottage in a quiet cul-de-sac was an oasis of calm in which Laurie felt so much happier than when they had been living in an increasingly frantic southwest London suburb. The room was sunlit as the Venetian blinds were never completely closed, and this was comforting because at this time in her life she generally woke early.

Since the accident in Italy earlier in the year, which had resulted in constant back pain, it had been necessary for Laurie to sleep in a semi-sitting up position for most of the time. An inability to find a truly comfortable way to lie down for any longer than an hour had driven Mark to another bedroom to escape broken nights beside a restless sleeper. She was not in desperate pain and unaware that she had broken her back, and simply accepted that time would heal the damaged muscles. The sunlight, combined with the apricot coloured walls, bathed the room in a warm bright glow and at barely 6am, Laurie sank back with her book, content to wait for the real start of the day – a lazy breakfast and the newspapers. While not initially overjoyed at retirement, its benefits, particularly the freedom to spend months in Italy, had dispersed Laurie’s fears of a colourless and boring later life.

Propped up against soft pillows, Laurie opened her book and as she did so a figure started to appear in the far-right corner of the room, shadowy at first then slowly gaining substance. It was a man with one hand held out as if in supplication, and as he did so his body became clearer and clearer until, eventually, he stood solid in the corner. And then he became motionless, looking at her with eyes cast slightly downward. Laurie simply froze, stared, blinking, not knowing what else to do.

Bemused, Laurie recognised him; it was Simon, a man she had not seen in almost 40 years. He was still young, at least the same age he had been on the one occasion they had met for any length of time. She watched for what must have been two or three minutes, and while the figure remained still, Laurie suddenly felt a bolt of energy, like an electrical charge, shooting through her, causing what she could only compare to an orgasm, as though something had entered her. Scarily sexual, it was almost as though she had been violated.

Simon had been the close friend and surrogate son of Laurie’s employer, Leon, a film producer for whom she worked for ten years until his death in the early seventies, and with whom she had developed a very close, almost father/daughter relationship. Dealing with the most private aspects of Leon’s life, Laurie recalled producing the codicils to his will and passing them to his solicitor.

These instructions also named Leon’s executors, of which Simon was one, and Laurie’s last contact with Simon had been following Leon’s sudden death many years before. Simon had also been Leon’s financial advisor, and as one of the two executors of Leon’s will, he had of necessity questioned Laurie, but even then, she recalled her connection with him had been scant and not particularly memorable.

She remembered him as being unfriendly and very unpleasant on one occasion. What on earth was the meaning of his appearance? Having had little or nothing to do with this man during his life, she reasoned his death could hardly be of interest or impact on her life. Laurie had instinctively known that there would be unfinished business in connection with Leon’s estate; particularly in relation to an unfortunate investment in a film-related business which had proved a great disappointment. Laurie now recalled the struggle she had encountered, desperately trying to ensure Leon’s so-called friend and partner honoured the terms of the contract.

Laurie felt no fear and was basically calm with just a sense of puzzlement – why the appearance and why now? It was the middle of August 2010; she hadn’t seen this man in at least forty years. Somehow though, she knew that he was dead; but why should she need to know? After all, it was hardly her business. Their paths had only crossed twice in about 10 years and they had spoken perhaps half a dozen times on the phone; a fleeting acquaintance and not part of the best of memories.

As Laurie sat bolt upright the vision slowly faded and aside from feeling it a very strange occurrence she put it to one side, determined to think no more about it, and opened her book to try to read until it was