FicWad

It took only a couple of minutes for Bob to guide everyone safely through the maze of passages that led to the control room. Three jaws dropped at the bank of equipment set up to make an already haunted house seem even more so. Each of them wondered if the owners actually realised that the house was in fact truly haunted.
Bob set to work immediately choosing a different room for each monitor and a couple of others with multi-room view.

“What’s this?” Gerard asked as he saw a monitor standing apart from the others with a view of the kitchen
“That’s the recording,” Bob explained. “It’s still running. Did you want to view it for when you were in there?”
Gerard chewed his lip and nodded. “Yeah, I think I need to see it.”
“Okay, Gee, I understand.”
Bob gave the singer’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze before setting the recording back to the moment Gerard had entered the room.

Gerard watched the recording on the screen with a grim fascination as events unfolded exactly as Bob had described them. Turning to face the others, Ray noted his stunned expression.

“Are you okay, Gee?” the guitarist asked.
“I’ve seen it and I still don’t believe it,” he murmured.
“I know it’s hard,” Bob added, “but we all have to pull it together now. You’re not so susceptible as Mikey and we have no idea what it’ll do to him. Look, I’ve checked all the monitors, panned around, everything and I can’t see him.”
“Bob,” Gerard’s voice faltered. “Where is he? Is she trying to kill him too?”
Bob looked pityingly at Gerard’s pained expression.
“Gee, I don’t know what’s happening, but I really think it’ll help if we know more about this place.”
Gerard nodded his agreement.

The four men took seats in silence around a small table and, while still keeping watch on the monitors for movement, as one they turned to Frank.

Frank leaned both forearms on the table with his fingers outstretched; somehow he felt it helped him concentrate. Gathering his thoughts for a few moments, there was an almost imperceptible nod as he readied himself to speak.

“The house was built in the late eighteen hundreds for an English couple, Lord and Lady Alverton. They were seriously rich, I mean in today’s equivalent, multi-multi-millionaires. Alverton was one of what English society called nouveau-riche and they despised him for that.”
“What’s nouveau-riche?” Ray asked.
“It’s French, it means ‘new money’. Basically it means he made his own fortune, rather than being born into it,” Frank explained.
“How can you despise someone for making money?” Gerard asked. “Pretty weird if you ask me.”
“Yeah well, apparently it was considered vulgar at the time. They were viewed as lower class people buying their way into elegant society. To be called an industrialist at the time was quite an insult.” Frank paused slightly before returning to the point. “Anyway, he made all his money in the railways, first in England and then in eighteen ninety something, they moved out to America. Of course, by then, the railway business was growing rapidly and he just got more and more successful. They were already getting older by the time they moved out and had grown children with families of their own. When Lord and Lady Alverton came out here, their children and their families remained in England. They’d had three girls, so of course none of them were part of the family business and their husbands all had their own careers already. So, a few years later, Alverton sold the business and retired.”
“You really have researched this haven’t you?” Ray cut in, impressed by Frank’s knowledge.
“Yeah, well, I really wanted to come here, so I read up,” Frank replied.
“Anyway,” Ray waved, “sorry, carry on.”
“Well, of course, the same fascination with English aristocracy existed here even then and they were the toast of the all the social circles. They fitted in much better over here because of the lack prejudice over how they made their fortune. It was ironic really, everyone wanted the railways, but they disapproved of the people who became rich through it.”
“Then what?” Gerard asked sensing that the story was reaching a particularly relevant point.
“Well,” Frank sighed. “They took frequent trips back to England to see their families. Money was never a problem so they went two or three times a year for several weeks at a time. Of course, there were no planes in those days, so all travelling was done by ship, or, more specifically in their case, luxury liner.”
“Oh,” Bob frowned, “I think I see where this is going.”
Frank nodded. “You guessed it, after one of their trips in nineteen twelve, they were returning on the Titanic. Lady Alverton survived in one of the lifeboats, but Lord Alverton was lost.”
“I thought all the first class passengers survived?” Ray commented with surprise.
“No,” Frank shook his head, “I thought that too. It was almost all the women and children, but apparently only about thirty percent of the first class male passengers escaped.”
“Wow! That many?” Ray sighed, “I didn’t expect that. Go on.”
“So, Lady Alverton returns here and, well, she just never got over it.”
“And she killed herself in the kitchen?” Gerard asked.
“Yeah,” Frank nodded.
“On Halloween?” Bob asked.
Frank almost laughed. “Now who’s been watching the bad horror movies? No, I think it was on his birthday, either his or hers, I can’t quite remember.”
“I think I saw her,” Bob admitted.
“When?” Frank asked.
“In the kitchen; like a sort of transparent mask over Gerard’s face.”
Gerard frowned deeply.
“That’s a little too weird for me!”
“Oh,” Ray sounded surprised. “I thought you were going to say it was what you thought was a mannequin that you saw in the window, when we arrived.”
“I’d forgotten all about that,” Bob replied. “That would be the master bedroom then.” He added consulting his room map.
“There’s supposed to be a portrait of them from when they were young in the bedroom, if you want to check?” Frank added.
“Yeah,” Bob nodded as he got to his feet. “I think I would. I don’t know why, but I have a feeling it’ll help.”
“Well, I’m staying here,” Gerard announced. “If Mikey shows up on one of these monitors, I want to know.”
Frank nodded. “How about Bob and I check out the portrait and you and Ray stay here and watch the monitors?”
Ray nodded his approval. “Sounds good. If anything shows up, I’ll call your cell.”

*

Stepping through the door of the master bedroom at the end of the long corridor at the top of the stairs, both men felt an eerie chill in the air. The portrait they had gone in search of dominated the room and Bob and Frank stared intently at it.

“That’s who I saw, alright,” Bob confirmed as he stared up at the portrait of Lord and Lady Alverton.
“Er…Bob,” Frank began unnerved.
“What’s wrong?”
“Lord Alverton?”
Bob turned his gaze to study the second figure.
“I don’t believe it!”
“It is isn’t it?”
Bob nodded. “He’s the image of Mikey!”