Chapter 7: Into the wood

By mid-afternoon Scarlet and Thomas had ventured further and deeper into the wood than they’d ever been before – chasing each other through dense pools of bluebells and around ancient oaks, the bent limbs and twisted roots of which resembled sleeping moss-covered giants.

After the rain, the air in the wood was moist and warm in the sun, but cool and wet in the shade. Butterflies went about their business, fluttering between foxgloves and honeysuckle.

Nightshade, Inky Cap, Fly Agaric, Snapdragon, Feverfew; old woodland names that sounded so strange and mysterious in the city where they used to live – were ten-a-penny here, littered here and there on the woodland floor just waiting to be discovered.

Hidden in the canopy of an old oak tree, curiosity had got the better of an owl who turned its head to follow their steps, its clever eyes staring with interest as the children passed by below.

‘Did you see her?’ said Thomas.

‘Who?’ said Scarlet, desperately looking around. ‘I thought we were alone.’

She frowned.

‘No! The girl up ahead!’ he said, jabbing his finger into the distance.

‘Can’t you see her?’ he said.

Scarlet squinted, but shook her head when she decided that she couldn’t see anything.

‘Follow me.’ he whispered.

At which point Thomas ran off ahead, disappearing into a deep thicket of bracken.

‘Come back!’ she hissed, cursing her brother again for not thinking. ‘You’ll get lost!’

Nevertheless, she ran off after him, hoping that she’d be able to catch up. She needn’t have worried though – after a short while she found him kneeling beside the trunk of a blasted oak staring into the distance ahead.

‘Look…’ she began and laid a hand on his shoulder.

‘Shh!’ he whispered, without turning around, ‘she’s crying…’

And then Scarlet saw her.

The girl – who must have only been a few years older than Scarlet – sat on a small outcrop of rocks sobbing uncontrollably. Her dirty white dress was torn and ragged and her shaking arms were pasty and white. In between little sniffles she kept wiping the tears from her eyes.

‘Why is she crying?’ Scarlet muttered.

Thomas shrugged. ‘Your guess is as good as mine…’

She set off towards her, determined to find out…

* * * * *

As Tobias sipped his third pint of Rampant Knobbler, he still couldn’t shake the feeling from his head that he wasn’t alone in his room last night. Although he’d half-managed to convince himself that it was due to a particularly bad ale and lack of sleep.

‘… so, are there any other tales?’ he asked.

Gordon the landlord leaned forward.

‘Oh plenty. You mean like ghost stories?’

Tobias found himself nodding automatically.

‘Well, there’s this tale of a barmaid who used to work here back in the eighteenth century.’

Tobias grabbed a pen from his briefcase.

‘Carry on.’ muttered Tobias. ‘I just need to find my notebook…’

Gordon finished drying a glass and continued:

‘As I said, it’s all to do with this barmaid called Rosemary see, who fell in love with a gentleman who was staying at the inn for a few days on business just down the road in Ketton y’see. He caught her eye one evening, and things went on from there. She found herself talking about him to anyone who would lend an ear to listen. Rumours spread like fire, and her fancy didn’t escape the attention of the rest of the staff who couldn’t help but notice the affection that she’d show towards him. Needless to say there was much talking and gossiping that went on behind turned backs and closed doors.

‘Now, this went on for some time, and the gentleman seemed sometimes to return the affection, and sometimes not, and this would leave the poor girl either in the happiest of states, or as low as she could possibly feel. So you can imagine how she felt on the day before his departure.

‘In the morning, a note was pushed under the door to her room, apparently from this so-called gentleman asking to meet him in the tunnel below the Inn the following night. Needless to say she was beside herself with happiness and the pain that she felt in her heart for his leaving disappeared in an instant. It was as if a great weight had been lifted from her.’

Tobias couldn’t believe his ears. Tunnel? Caves? Below this pub? Was he hearing right? In his fascination he’d completely failed to take any notes. His black fountain pen sat alone on the bar, top still securely fastened, forgotten. He carried on listening, mesmerised.

‘According to the story,’ continued Gordon, ‘the note said they should run away together and be married straightaway. She was so happy that she ran off and spent what little savings she had on new clothes and perfume.

‘Now, this is where fate and tragedy go hand in hand, because unbeknown to her you see, the note had been written by some local lads who intended to have a laugh at her expense. Boys can be so heartless and cruel sometimes.

‘Nevertheless, Rosemary turned up dressed in her dear grandmother’s bridal dress only to discover to her horror the lads laughing heartlessly at her as they hid behind the trees in the wood. They were so worked up with laughing and making a fool of her that they followed as she turned her back and fled in tears. They chased her through the wood shouting, taunting and throwing stones at her.

‘Now, I ain’t too sure how you go about throwing stones in a playful way, but according to the story one of them apparently hit her square on the back of the head so hard that she fell to the ground in an instant hitting her poor head on a rock. When they caught up with her, they found to their horror that she was completely stone dead. Pardon the expression.

Gordon continued.

‘Anyway, the lads took her body back through the tunnel to her room here where she stayed until the landlord found her the following morning, all alone in her room, sitting in her chair staring dead ahead, looking for all the world as if she’d been crying all night. The tears still wet in her eyes.

‘Rosemary’s grandmother was so distraught that she passed away the night she was told about her grand daughter. Her poor mother soon followed, dying of a broken heart at the loss of them both.

‘If you’ve got the time and care to look, you’ll find the family plot in St. Mary’s churchyard in the village.’

Gordon shook his head and pressed his finger down to the bar top.

‘But you see, although I ain’t never seen her ghost, I do know people who have. They say that on certain days of the year such as in spring and autumn haunting weeps and cries can be heard in the wood only to disappear to be heard somewhere else.’

Gordon smiled at Tobias, who was staring straight through him, mouth open and as white as a sheet.

‘’nother pint?’ Gordon asked cheerfully, raising his eyebrows.

Tobias finally closed his mouth and pushed his empty glass slowly towards the landlord. ‘Are you saying this place is actually haunted?’ he blurted.

‘Well, it’s an old pub. Old places like this are expected to have a certain life of their own apparently. Why, what’s the matter? You look like someone’s walked over your grave… or seen a ghost’, he joked.

Tobias felt a shiver run down his spine and in that instant he knew for certain that he wasn’t alone in his room last night.

‘Would my room be the same room as… you know, erm…’ he whimpered, gesturing frantically with his eyes upstairs.

He couldn’t quite bring himself to finish the sentence.

‘The same room as Rosemary you mean? Well, that I don’t know. But don’t you go worrying on account of me. It’s only a story, and as far as I know there’s no basis in fact. Or maybe there is. Who knows?’

He lowered his brow and stared at Tobias.

‘You ain’t tellin’ me you believe in ghosts as well as dragons now are you?’

‘No, no! Of-course not!’ said Tobias, awkwardly laughing.

‘What a ridiculous suggestion.’

* * * * *

Scarlet sat down on the moss-covered stone beside the girl, whose little sniffles and sobs seemed to fill the entire glade.

‘Excuse me?’ asked Scarlet, as she reached out with her hand to the girl whose thin white face was full of tears. ‘Why are you crying? What’s the matter?’

The girl looked up slowly and blinked as another big tear rolled down her cheek.

‘I’m sorry.’ she said. ‘I can’t help it. It’s the boys from the village.’ She tried hard to disguise the sadness in her voice. ‘They’ve been laughing and throwing stones at me. Wherever I go, no matter what I do, they’re always there. I hate them…’

She frowned.

‘But that’s so cruel!’ Scarlet said.

Her voice was hard and Thomas knew she was upset and angry. He’d only managed to get her feeling like that on a number of occasions. But he was puzzled too: he hadn’t noticed any boys from the village in the wood since they’d moved here. In fact now he thought about it, he hadn’t noticed anyone in the wood.

The little girl sniffled.

‘Oh, it happens everyday.’ the girl said distantly, blowing her nose on a little handkerchief. ‘It can be so hard to remember sometimes…’

Scarlet thought about this, but still couldn’t help but feel sad for the girl.

The girl looked up slowly.

‘It’s been so long since I’ve had people to talk to you know.’ she said, a thin smile forming on her face. ‘I could take you where no one has ever been before…’

‘What do you mean?’ asked Scarlet, slightly bemused.

‘It’s better if I show you.’ she said, beckoning them to follow her. ‘You’d understand better then…’

Scarlet and Thomas turned to follow, and the girl turned around once more.

‘By the way, my name’s Rosemary. I almost forget some days…’

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