The Haunting of Truscott House: Shadows in the Past, #1

By Mo Raven

A house with a dark secret.

A grieving daughter determined to carry out her parents' last wishes.

A grandmother with something to hide…

Chloe Thomas brushes aside her grandmother's pleas that she stay away from Truscott House, and moves in with her friend Emily to finish the project her parents had begun before their death—the renovation of a property that had been in the family for a century. 

Sure: she knows that the locals say it's haunted. She brushes that aside; kids will be kids, and so-called haunted houses are practically a rite of childhood, aren't they?

But it isn't long before Chloe has to eat her words, and admit that something doesn't seem want them there—but who? Or what? And why? 

Growing increasingly afraid, she has to dig deep to find the courage to continue, with a terrified friend begging her to leave and as the truth about her grandmother's childhood is revealed. Does she have what it takes to see this out, risking another terrible loss for her grandmother? Or is it possible to reverse the ill fortune of decades, and make Truscott House a happy home once more?

She calls in the help of a ghost-hunter, and only then does she understand the strength of the unquiet spirit in her home—and that there are other innocents who have much at stake.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Blue Gem Publishing
• Release date: Aug 20, 2017
• ISBN: 9781922772008

Book preview

Prologue

May 1947, Truscott House, Ashburton

Lizzie Truscott sipped her tea, her nerves on edge. 

Every day it was the same. For a few hours after school, she and the children could breathe easily. Then, as five o'clock approached, all five of them usually got quieter and quieter until there was silence. 

Today had been no different, but right now, there were only four of them in the house. Their 10-year-old daughter, Beatrice, was late. 

Earlier, when Edward came home from work, he had gone straight upstairs as usual. They stayed out of his way and waited to see how bad he would be when he came down to tea—if he came down at all. 

She had given up hoping that Edward would ever again be the happy man she had married or the father that his children adored.

While waiting for Beatrice to come home—praying she'd get there before her father came downstairs—Lizzie watched her boys whispering together at the table and thought about the war. For close on two years, her stomach had churned with each ring of the doorbell, afraid it meant a telegram with news that would destroy her family. She had spent those years fearful of losing her husband.

She had no idea he was already lost.

Those long months during the war had been excruciating for her, but not for the children. Beatrice, her oldest, would sing as she drew pictures to send to her father, and Sid smiled with his whole face when Henry tickled him. Their energy reverberated through the house. 

She missed their joy. When their father finally came home, his body broken and his eyes full of demons, they had learned it was safer to stay quiet, to disappear from the house that should have been their home. 

Across the table, Henry helped Sid to colour in by whispering the shade of trees and grass and pointing to the page. Henry looked so much like Edward, Beatrice thought. Sid had light hair and blue eyes, but Henry had big brown eyes and a slight curl to his dark hair like his father. His tongue stuck out when he concentrated, and dimples accompanied his smile. 

When was the last time she had seen him smile? 

Mummy? Henry said. 

Jerked out of her thoughts, she saw him staring at her. Yes?

Are you crying?

Lizzie wiped her cheek, surprised to find tears dampening her skin. I was just thinking about how much I love you. She stood up and kissed the tops of both heads. You two take your things upstairs and play in your room while I make dinner, okay? 

Henry's expression turned anxious as he glanced at the stairs. 

It will be fine, sweetheart, she reassured him. Just don't disturb your father while he's resting.

Henry took a deep breath and straightened his spine. It broke her heart to watch him shake off his childhood and carry himself like such a brave little man. He gathered the crayons, then took his brother's hand and led him up the stairs. 

Unfortunately, little Sid had no memories from before the war. He only knew the fits of rage that exploded from his father's sullen silences and did his best to avoid the unpredictable stranger who frightened him so. 

Silence reigned for a while, and then there was a muffled thump from one of the rooms above. Lizzie stared upward, her heart pounding, before tip-toeing upstairs to check on the boys. They glanced up when she eased open the door, warily alert. Henry had a book on his lap, and his little brother was looking at it over his shoulder. Lizzie just smiled and nodded before sliding quietly along the hall to listen at the closed door of the bedroom she shared with Edward. 

Not a sound. 

She released her pent-up breath and returned to the kitchen to peel and slice the potatoes for dinner, sending a worried glance at the clock on the mantle. Beatrice was so late... Even though she knew it could set her father off if she weren't home on time, she much preferred life at her friend Valerie's place to being here. 

Lizzie sighed. Please, God, let him be normal tonight...

Ten minutes later, she heard the creak of their bedroom door and then the sound of her husband's footsteps on the stairs. Edward's moods were telegraphed through his movements as well as his body language. When the pain radiated through his leg, his heavy footsteps pounded an uneven rhythm as he walked. 

It was not going to be a good evening. Lizzie's pulse quickened.

Edward didn't say anything as he entered the room and dropped into his seat at the kitchen table. He winced as he bent his knee.

You're in pain, she said gently. Let me run upstairs and get you some of your pills. 

He slammed the palm of his hand into the table. They'll do no good. Stop your fussing.

I thought they might help….

Well, they won't! His eyes met hers, and the breath caught in her throat at the simmering rage she saw there.

I'm not the enemy; she wanted to say. I didn't do this to you.

It would be no use. When Edward was like this, he wasn't seeing her or the children. His mind was full of horrors. 

Swallowing hard, Lizzie returned to the cutting board next to the sink and went back to slicing carrots. She didn't know what to do. If she stayed silent, his rage would simmer until he blew. If she tried to talk, he'd often slap her and tell her to be quiet. She couldn't win. 

Where's Beatrice? he growled. 

She'll be home soon.

Late again. I'll have a word to that little madam. 

Lizzie bit her lip and carried on with the meal preparation. Sometimes she blamed herself for Edward's ill-temper. She should have gone to the military hospital to be with him. He had spent four months in that ward full of broken men and absorbed their pain along with his own, with little support. His fits and tempers were not his fault. 

Abruptly, a wail from upstairs pulled Lizzie from her thoughts, and she turned, her eyes on Edward. A vein throbbed at his temple, and his face flushed. He didn't look up, but his fingers tightened on the edge of the table.

Then she heard a door bang open, and a rush of small footsteps pounded on the stairs. Henry flew into the kitchen, a book held protectively against his chest. 

Sid ran in after him. "Henry, mine!" 

I didn't do anything wrong, Henry insisted over the wails of his brother, his eyes beseechingly on his mother. He tried to take my library book, and I wouldn't let him. For the first time, his eyes went to his father, and his face blanched when he saw his father's face. He…he was going to colour the pages, he finished, his last words almost inaudible. 

Sid didn't pick up on the tension. "Give it to me; it's mine!"

Quiet! Edward shot to his feet, sending his chair crashing into the wall. Instantly, he groaned with the pain the movement caused. "Just stop it!" He pounded both fists into the tabletop. The boys edged towards their mother, struggling to suppress their tears.

Edward started toward the boys, his fists still clenched. Lizzie grabbed her sons and pushed them to one side, and tried to distract him.

Calm down, Edward, she said, keeping her voice low and soothing. Calm down. They didn't mean anything. She held up her hand.

He