Helen Phifer - The Good Sisters - The perfect scary read to curl up with this winter

Chapter Three

The house no longer smelt old, damp and empty. It now smelt of plaster, wood filler and paint. There were two bedrooms finished and the en-suite bathrooms were plumbed in so that Kate could have a hot shower after a hard day’s graft. She had begun reading the old diary that she’d found on the very first day and had to stop because it was terrifying her. She’d discovered that the house had become a convent at one time, which explained the crosses when she’d moved in.

The first few pages had been written beautifully. Then the writing had changed as if the writer, Agnes, had been in a hurry to document what was going on. Kate read about a nun who had died here, in her house. She shuddered as a strange feeling washed over her. She had a great, great-aunt called Agnes who had been a nun. What if this book belonged to her? She pushed the thought away. Agnes was probably a popular name back then. It was probably just a coincidence.

The death of the poor woman sounded so violent. After she finished reading, Kate had then gone upstairs. She had gone into each bedroom, studying the floorboards for bloodstains. Unable to distinguish any from the paint splatters and dust, she’d given up after Ethan had asked what she was looking for. Kate had laughed and gone back down to put the small diary away because it had terrified her. She was just relieved that all of this had happened such a long time ago.

To take her mind away from the terror in that small book, she had spent hours poring over the magazines that her friend Sam had dropped off for her. Kate was trying to decide on a practical, yet perfect kitchen. She didn’t want to spend a huge amount of money. Because of the size of the room, it was going to be expensive – even if she picked a cheap one.

Ollie had been a godsend. She didn’t know what she would have done without him these last few weeks. He always stayed later than Jack and Ethan – the lads who worked for him. Kate often wondered what his wife thought about the amount of time he was spending here, but it wasn’t any of her business. For all she knew they could be on the brink of a divorce and his wife was glad to see the back of him. She wished she knew because the more time she spent with Ollie the more she liked him.

Kate sat down on the top step, an overwhelming feeling of tiredness taking over her. As exciting as this project was, it was taking it out of her. Today she hadn’t been able to shake the headache that she’d woken up with. She decided she needed strong painkillers washed down with a mouthful of vodka. She crept down to the kitchen for a shot of the ice-cold alcohol that was in the freezer compartment. After glugging down the tablets she went straight to the bathroom and brushed her teeth. Ollie was hardly going to find a forty-five-year-old alcoholic attractive, was he? And she still felt embarrassed by the need to use alcohol to get her through the day, although she wasn’t drinking as much now. She was making a conscious effort to reduce her intake.

As she patted her mouth dry, she looked into the mirror. Her life had gone almost full circle and she was lucky it didn’t show on her face. The wrinkles she had feared so much in her thirties hadn’t put in much of an appearance, except for the laughter lines around her eyes – although the last twelve months she hadn’t really had much to laugh about. Maybe they were crying wrinkles because she’d spent a whole lot more time crying than she’d ever done laughing.

The air, which was normally full of minute particles of plaster dust, smelt different. As Kate turned around to open the bathroom door, she inhaled again. What was that smell? It smelt like old leather, burnt skin and garlic all mixed together and it was rank. She looked around the bathroom then opened the door out onto the corridor. It was stronger out here.

The lads had all gone into town for their dinner – even Ollie had gone with them and he normally ate a packed lunch, but all they’d been talking about during the morning had been meat and potato pies and cream cakes from the bakery. She stood and listened to the house. It was so silent and still without the workmen banging around and singing.

Kate wondered if it was some kind of chemical that they’d used and walked along the hall to the room they had all been working in. The door was shut. She was sure it had been open when she’d passed it to go to the toilet. She heard her name being called and stood still. Was she hearing things? It sounded like Amy’s voice calling for her, but that was ridiculous. She waited, her head turned to the side.

‘Katie, where are you?’

It was so faint, but there was no mistaking it was Amy’s voice and Kate smiled briefly. ‘Amy, where are you? I’m here.’

Even though it was broad daylight, her heart began to race as she thought about her dead friend calling out to her from the same room where the crosses had appeared on the wall with no explanation. Both Jack and Ethan had strongly denied having anything to do with them when Ollie had questioned the pair of them.

She walked towards the room. Pressing her ear to the heavy wooden door, she listened to see if there was anyone inside or if it was her imagination. Call it her instinct or whatever, but her mind was screaming at her not to open the door whilst she was alone in the house. There was a loud thump from inside as if something heavy had been dropped from quite a height. It made her jump away from the door as her hands began to shake. What was that?

She pulled her phone from her pocket and pressed 999, her finger poised above the green call button, ready to ring for the police. If it was Amy inside there she wouldn’t scare her. Placing her head back against the door, she heard the sound of something heavy moving towards her. It was too big and clumsy to be her friend, who had been a tiny little thing. It sounded as though it had to drag itself towards the door.

Kate pulled back terrified. She wanted to know what was in her house. At the same time she wasn’t brave enough to open the door and see. She opened her mouth to shout that she was calling the police. Nothing came out. Instead she heard a loud thud as whatever it was caught the ladders on the other side of the door and they crashed to the floor. Which meant it was at the door and it would be coming through it very soon.

She forced herself to turn and run as fast as she could down the stairs and to the front door, where she slammed full force into Ollie. He was carrying a white paper bag with meat and potato pies inside. He dropped the pies to hold his hands out to catch her, but she was coming that fast she managed to knock them both to the floor in a heap.

‘Get out, we have to get out.’

***

‘What’s the matter, Kate? Have you hurt yourself?’

Ollie wanted to sound like a gentleman, but she couldn’t have really hurt herself when she was lying on top of him. He was slightly winded, but it was the pies that had sustained the most damage. One of them had exploded all over the inside of the bag and there was meat and potato filling seeping out all over the floor. She pulled herself off him and turned to look behind her. There wasn’t anything there.

‘Something was coming. There’s something in the bedroom. I don’t know what the fuck it was, but it knew my name. We need to get out and call the police.’

He stood up and held his hand out to pull her up from the floor where she was kneeling, her face whiter than the paint he had all over his hands.

‘Whoa, what do you mean? What’s coming?’

She shook her head and grabbed his hand, tugging him back out of the front door. He looked down at the mess that was his dinner on the floor, then followed her outside. She didn’t stop until she reached his van and clambered inside, slamming the door shut.