Shadows

Prologue1

Autumn 1966, Marylebone, London2

“Simon! Your tea’s getting cold!” the voice cried from the kitchen. Fifteen-year-old Simon Bell pretended not to hear his mother’s plea. He sat entranced as the black and white fairy glow of the television screen shimmered and bounced off the walls of the living room’s darkened theatre. After two or three more increasingly angry shouts he got up and switched off the set. 3

“Why does she always do this?” Life’s not fair he thought. He had had no desire to move to another area of London away from his mates. He detested the new school, Parkhill High, with its stuffy rules, uptight teachers and dress code of navy blue striped blazer. The girls ignored him and he had nothing in common with many of the rich boys there. Above all he particularly hated this musty, old end of terrace house his family were now obliged to live in since his dad’s promotion at IM computers.4

“O.k, o.k keep your hair on”, muttered Simon as he sloped into the kitchen. Annie Bell received her twelve-year-old son with a withering glance. 5

“When I call you for tea Simon Small you come straightaway you hear? Don’t you start giving me any lip boy!” she said whipping a tea cloth expertly behind his right ear.6

“Owww!” shouted Simon clutching the wounded ear. “That hurt!”7

“Be thankful i’m in a good mood today. Your dad’s taking me out for the evening-he’s treating me to a Valentine’s meal at that new Spanish restaurant that’s opened in Morton Street. What’s it called now? Alicante, that’s it. Now, Simon you are going to be alright on your own here aren’t you? Can I trust you to get on with homework? No t.v until you’re done, d’you hear.” 8

“Yes, mum.” he replied with a roll of his eyes. 9

Simon switched the t.v back on, tuning it to his favourite show ‘Ready Steady Go’. The Yardbirds were performing their latest hit when Simon heard a crackling sound from the small speaker. Simon ignored it and carried on watching but was irritated when three minutes later he heard the same sound. This time Simon thought he also heard a voice. 10

“Simon, can you hear us Simon?”. He knew it wasn’t his parents since they had left the house twenty minutes ago.11

“Simon, can you hear us Simon?”. This time there was no mistaking it. There was definitely someone else in the house. Simon thought he was going mad and was convinced when the screen, much to his annoyance, faded to black leaving just the voice in the speaker. 12

“Play with us Simon, please?” The voice sounded female, like a young girl, in its pitch and tone.13

“Who is that?Who’s there?” Simon called out to no one in particular.14

“We’re your friends Simon.... we’re the only one who care about you”.15

Simon noticed the blackness of the screen beginning to clear into shades of grey and white. He could just make out the shadowy forms of two people on the screen. After a few seconds he realised the figures on screen were two girls, roughly his own age. They were dressed in clothes more suited to the nineteen twenties than the swinging sixties. Certainly they were like none of the girls he’d ever encountered at school. What was even more peculiar, they appeared to be sitting under an oak tree on a tartan blanket having a picnic.16

“I say Sally, isn’t this a splendid day for a picnic?”said the older of the two girls.17

“It certainly is Harriet- more lemonade?” said Sally handing over a glass. She turned to a contraption that Simon recognised as an old-fashioned radiogram complete with sound horn, just like Gran and Gramps used to own. There was the unmistakable sound of a heavy needle being dropped onto the grooves of a 78rpm acetate disc. The sound horn reverberated to the sounds of early jazz music.18

“Half past two, i’m with you, i’m in love and so are you”, intoned the male singer on the record.19

“I’ve got a topping idea Harriet! Do you remember the pact we made, all those years ago? Why don’t we do another one- this time with Simon! Simon can join in too!!”Sally exclaimed clapping her hands in glee.20

“..everythings tickey boo”.21

Simon tried to scream out, call for help, but found he was paralysed both physically and vocally.22

“Oh, I don’t know Sally-do you think he knows the rules of the game?”whispered Harriet mock-conspiratorially.23

“Well there’s only one way to find out.....”24

“...say has anybody seen my gal?”25

May 197126

“And so we are all gathered here my friends to glory in the divine universal consciousness. For when our inner guru is at one with the universal mind all of life itself is at one”. The speaker, a bearded Indian in his early thirties, looks proudly at his devoted gathering of followers who like him all sit cross legged on the floor in the traditional manner. He smiles and nods beatifically at each one of them and they in turn gaze at him with devotion.27

“Let us begin now with our first chant,” he shouts, clapping his hands together with a chuckle. 28

“Om mane padme um...om mane padme um....om mane padme um.......”. The company repeat the chant at a lower pitch then their leader. A subtle but audible vibration is set up by the chanters which gradually builds layer upon layer, reaching a crescendo. Some of the chanters look around them in concern as they feel the floor and the very foundations of the house shake beneath them. Picture frames start shaking themselves free off the walls and the single naked light bulb glows brighter and dimmer by itself. The guru motions for the assembly to stop their chant: “ Well, yes, er, ahem, I think the universe has ‘plugged in’ as it were to our consciousness...”he says with a nervous giggle. “I think we shall resume our meditation at the same time, next week”. Harjinder Namib Tander Singh watches his relieved pupils depart into the cool night air, the chattering voices in marked contrast to the subdued atmosphere of earlier. He reflects on the wisdom of having rented this accursed place for his yogic sessions. Tonight’s disruption is only the latest in a series of incidents at the building. Objects going missing or thrown by unseen hands, whispering voices. Harjinder recalls his childhood home in Bombay more than 20 years earlier: there were...impressions..shadows of things that once were but were no longer. He remembers his father’s words to him: ”Ghosts can’t harm you Harj, they are more scared of you then we are of them..”. He wondered then as now how his father could have been so convinced of this. With a shiver he dons his scarf and coat and locks the front door of 25 Oxley Street, Marylebone behind him. Something-some nagging, clawing like feeling, makes him take one last look up toward the upper east floor of the house. He thinks he sees the curtain move a fraction of an inch, half imagines two red dots like...eyes.... He shakes his head to clear it. There’s nothing there- no curtain moving, no red eyes. It must have been the light from the street lamp....29

Chapter 130

Marylebone tube station: July 201031

“Tickets please!”. Alison Scott looked up from her paperback at the hovering inspector, fumbling in her jeans pocket as she did so for her return ticket. 32

“And shoes off the furniture please luv”. Alison complied with the request with a smirk, produced her ticket and exited the train onto the platform. Peering into the crowd of commuters she could just make out a familiar mop of red hair.33

“Peter!” she cried. 34

“Alison-you took your time!” he said laughing as he grabbed her in a bear hug.35

“Hey don’t blame me for British Rail’s failings.”36

“Ere, give us that suitcase. Bloody hell, what have you got in here-life savings?” he winced as they made their way out of the station.37

“Ha ha. Just lead on McDuff, lead on”38

“Your wish is my command, madam”, he said with an affected bow. 39

The house stood as solid and as silent as Alison had last remembered it. The drab Victorian end terrace was the kind that you see everywhere around this part of London. Nothing outstanding at all. But still.... . Alison’s thoughts were interrupted by the sight of her mother standing at the door.40

“Hey don’t stand there all day you two! Come on in from the cold!” . Pauline Scott was an imposing woman in her early fifties. Good-hearted and friendly, for sure. But Alison knew that at her core her mother was not a woman who suffered fools gladly. Her mother had been divorced from her father for three years now after one affair too many. Alison had last seen her father the previous Christmas. He had been full of apologies to her and mother, pleaded to be taken back. Just one more chance. He had even given Alison a gift of very expensive earrings that were thrown back in his face. Alison was just glad he wasn’t around now to spoil her end of term homecoming. She had the people she valued and loved the most- her mum, her best friend from childhood Pete and her dog Mutley to welcome her home. What more could she want?41

“So how’s Oxford? Any new romances to tell me about?” said Pauline with a wink in Pete’s direction.42

“Oh mum! I haven’t got time for any of that rubbish – I’ve got a dissertation on financial fiscal studies to complete you know.” 43

“I don’t know, you’ve got perfectly good boyfriend material here you know. I’ll leave you two alone shall I?” Pete squirmed in his seat as Alison gave her mother a withering look. 44

“I’m really sorry about her” whispered Alison behind the retreating figure of her mother.45

“Oh don’t worry, I’m used to her by now”said Pete with a wry smile. “Anyway, now your here I want you to have a look at something”. Pete fished into his ever present rucksack and produced a newspaper cutting which he handed to Alison. The article, from the local Evening Gazette, featured a picture of a family standing outside a house underneath the headline: FAMILY FLEE HOUSE IN TERROR. She read on: A quiet terraced street in Marylebone, London is perhaps not the immediate location that springs to mind when we think of ghosts, ghouls and things that go bump in the night. But for one terrified family that is exactly what they claim to have encountered. For the past six months since moving in the Parkinson family have experienced all manner of haunting and poltergeist phenomena. Jim Parkinson, 50, said: “The worst of the apparitions we’ve seen is this shadow type being, he just seems to stand there like. The weirdest thing is he seems to wear a top hat....”46

“See that, that’s the very same thing I saw in my house last year!” Pete said jabbing at the paper with his forefinger.47

“But we all know what a vivid imagination you have – working at that petrol station forecourt has seriously unhinged you. All those lonely nights, eh?”48

“Oh you can laugh alright, but i’m telling you this street has got history man. Bad history. 49

The black sedan parked in front of 23 Oxley Street did not immediately attract much attention to the residents going about their daily business. The occupants within the house also remained blissfully unaware of their visitors outside. So it seemed, until the front door opened and stern-looking middle aged woman marched up to the car window and rapped loudly three times.50

“You can’t stop here. Can’t you see the sign. Reserved parking for residents only-permit required” shouted Pauline Scott in exasperation. 51

The tinted driver side window electric window slid down soundlessly. Pauline peered at the occupants within. There was something not quite right about the male driver and his female passenger. They both looked too, well, perfect. Their manner of dress was immaculate with not a hair out of place. In fact unless she was very much mistaken the man even looked like he could have been wearing a toupee. But these were not the only things that stood out about the strange couple. Pauline realised with a shudder what it was-it was their eyes. The eyes were completely black! There were no discernible irises or pupils, just deep, deep pools of midnight black. Pure malignant evil emanated from those eyes. Pauline started to back away from the car and did not stop until her back was against the front door. Then, to her relief, the window slid back up and the sedan moved off into the gathering dusk.52