Writing for Fun
November 2017
Things That Go Bump In The Night - Jeanette Rothwell
I still love this grand old house and the crooked old oak tree in the untidy garden. The current owners, Dr and Mrs Jacob, have two young children, Ben now 7 years old and Becky who is only 4. They are a really nice family and seem to appreciate the house without making too many alterations although the big box in the corner which they call the TV seems to occupy a lot of their time as well as their ‘mobile Phones’. I don’t know what they are but the children’s little fingers wiggle their way across the surfaces and they seem delighted with the result. In my day children spent their time in the garden, on the swing, playing hide and seek or board games when the weather was bad. After working as a housemaid in the old house, I then became a Nanny and have always loved working with children.
I’ve haunted this house now for over 50 years since I died here having served the old family virtually all my working life. Initially, I wasn’t very good at walking through walls and doors, and making different smells, letting out screeches and wails when I wanted to frighten someone, or knocking over tables with vases of flowers but practise makes perfect and I am very good at all this haunting stuff now, including emanating sometimes into a green glow, although that does take a lot of effort on my part.
Because they are very busy people, the Doctor and Mrs Jacob employed an Au Pair to look after the children, taking Ben to his primary school and Becky to her Nursery school, then collecting them, giving them meals, and playing with them. The children were very fond of her and all was going well except when no-one was around, the Au Pair would spend her time crying because she was so homesick. She had come from Poland and so missed her family. Eventually her sadness was too much and she left, bidding the children a fond farewell.
This, obviously, left the parents with a dilemma. So they decided to employ a Nanny and along came Nanny Smith. She appeared to have all the right qualifications but the parents were unaware that she was a strict disciplinarian. All too soon, Ben’s face took on a mulish look as he reluctantly cleared up his toys even before he had started to play with them, went to bed when ordered and wasn’t allowed to have a story read to him. Becky resorted to tears because Nanny Smith was constantly scolding her and I became very angry over this woman’s treatment of them. Basically they were good kids and didn’t need this regimental atmosphere.
What could I do? The woman was fairly insensitive and although I created a few nasty smells in her bedroom, emanated a bit but my green glow at night didn’t seem to bother her. She just turned over in her bed and went on snoring. Clearly I would have to work harder.
Then the family decided to go away for the weekend to visit the grandparents and Nanny Smith was left alone in the house. On the first night she settled down in front of the television with a large helping of her employer’s gin and a splash of tonic, stretched out on the comfy sofa and in no time she had dozed off and I could feel myself getting angry at her cheek. How dare she treat the house as if it were her own! In my day a Nanny knew her place and didn’t take advantage of the employer’s absence.
Eventually, she woke up, picked out a book from the library, and went up to her bedroom. She got ready for bed and with her reading lamp on, settled down to read her book. Perhaps a few creaks on the stairs would bother her. No such luck, she didn’t seem to hear. Perhaps she was a bit deaf. Some banshee type wails might do the trick? She just got up, looked out of her bedroom door, shrugged her shoulders and climbed back into bed.
‘Let’s try some bumps,’ I said to myself. Downstairs I let a painting fall off the wall. No reaction. In the Attic I pushed over some tennis racquets and hockey sticks. Having a peek into her bedroom, she looked as if she was beginning to look uncomfortable.
‘Must try harder,’ my old school teacher used to say. What about some shrieks accompanied by some dragging footsteps? Now we are getting somewhere. She jumped out of bed, put on her dressing gown and marched out of the room, down the stairs, calling ‘Who’s there? Come out whoever you are!’
I maintained a complete silence. However, it was a fairly windy night and I heard her mutter something about it must be the wind. Back to bed but she gave up on the book, switched out her lamp and snuggled down to sleep.
‘Oh no you don’t,’ I thought. Once again I used the shrieking and dragging feet routine, only a bit louder. She sat bolt upright in bed. A louder shriek on my part. She jumped out of bed and started to get dressed. I rubbed my hands in glee. The noisy wind outside the house was helping with the atmosphere and I added a few wails and also knocked over a table making a loud bump.
Her suitcase was retrieved from under the bed and she hurriedly started to fill it, no folding or smoothing, just throwing everything in as fast as she could. She then picked up, what I think was her mobile phone and spoke to it, asking for a taxi.
She threw on her coat, picked up the suitcase and hurried downstairs, looking fearfully around all the time. Out through the front door and very soon a car drew up outside, She jumped in and off she went without a backward glance.
‘Good riddance,’ I thought.
The family returned on the Sunday evening and were surprised at not being able to find Nanny Smith. It seems Dr Jacob’s mobile phone told him that she had left because the house was haunted. The parents looked very puzzled. I had always been very careful not to let them know that I was around. The children were delighted. They clapped their hands and danced around with joy.
You know, this haunting lark is really good fun. I can’t hug and kiss the children, I can’t enjoy their games or join in their enjoyment but I can certainly ensure their safety and happiness and that is enough for me. I wonder how long I can stay here. Of course, the house might eventually get pulled down, then where will I go. Perhaps then I will give up on the haunting and settle into whatever place there is for those who have passed on.