Emma's Secret

A short story from the case studies of Dr David Hammond.

Another curious case from before David would make a career out of his interest in what might or might not be considered to be paranormal, and why people believe in such things. It is 31^st October 1997, a dark Halloween night. He was still working as an industrial chemist, this being no more than a hobby. He and Janet had recently joined the local paranormal club, and this was the first time they had gone along to one of the club outings.

There was nowhere to park.

When this part of Bristol had been developed in the time of Queen Victoria, parking for cars had not been a consideration. They eventually found a parking space at the end of Waverley Road that they could just squeeze their Ford Fiesta into.

It was Friday night, and it was dark. Most of the houses had some form of Halloween decorations, but it was late enough for trick or treating to be over for another year. David and Janet huddled into their coats and walked along the centre of the quiet road, rather than risking the uneven concrete slabs of the pavement.

This was not the planned Halloween outing for the paranormal club they had joined only a couple of months ago. They were supposed to be visiting a coffee shop somewhere along one of the many roads between Bristol and Bath. It had once been an undertaker’s coffin workshop, which David suspected was no more likely to be haunted than the local supermarket. That seemed to be the way with ghost hunters. Anything that could be a prop for a crappy horror film, or a building that looks spooky, is all it took to keep them happy.

That had all been arranged two months ago, but then it had been hastily unarranged last weekend. David and Janet were still new to the club, so were not familiar with the politics, but it sounded like the owner of the coffee shop who had been previously willing to open the place for them on a Friday night, had told somebody to get stuffed, and all bets were off. David had a strong suspicion of who would have prompted that sort of reaction.

Tonight’s venue had been a last-minute alternative, although David thought it was possibly inappropriate and bad taste to investigate somebody’s home on Halloween. The house was reported to have some form of poltergeist, something David had never come across, otherwise he would have suggested they should sack this one off and stay at home.

In just two or three weeks, the house had acquired such a bad feeling that the cat had moved out and gone to live with neighbours who took pity on her. When brought back home, she had scratched and clawed in a fury as soon as she was carried near to the door, and had not been in the house since.

The boiler had stopped working, and although not very old, was beyond repair, too many of its vital parts having failed. The new boiler that replaced it had lasted only one day before it too broke down. Similar disasters had befallen the washing machine, television, computer, and other household goods of a mechanical or electrical nature, all in the last two or three weeks.

Not surprisingly, the house had a bad feel to it, and in desperation, the owner had asked the paranormal club to take a look to see if some mysterious force could explain any of it, because by now she was convinced the house was cursed. David thought anybody would have a bad feeling about their house after that sort of run of bad luck, but as he stepped through the door he could feel it.

There was something in this house.

Something unpleasant.

Because both David and Janet had to work, and it was Friday at the end of a long week, they were late, not helped by having to park so far away they could consider getting a taxi back to their car later. By the time they joined the now familiar faces in the living room, the theories of what could be causing these issues were in full flow.

The loudest voices in the room were of course Richard and Susan, or as David thought of them, dick and Sue. In a classic example of nominative determinism, the baby who had been christened Richard, had grown into the man who was undoubtedly a total dick.

At their very first meeting with the paranormal club, David and Janet had been cornered by Richard and Susan, and had barely spoken to anybody else. On that occasion they had left early, David feeling more than a little awkward having described how he had visited a pub that was apparently closed, but they had been in the company of this twosome for long enough to form an opinion that David just did not get on with these two people, and never would.

At the next meeting, Richard had greeted David as Dave. David corrected him, reminding the arsehole that his name was David, not Dave. When the arsehole later called him Dave again, David replied, calling him dick, expressed in a manner that left no doubt that he meant dick with a small d, and probably with a small dick too. The battle lines had been drawn, and they had not spoken since.

Richard the dick and his equally obnoxious wife Sue were the type of couple you often see in such clubs. Involved in everything, the centre of attention, but never actually contributing anything useful.

Even before he took his shoes off by the front door, David could hear Richard the dick talking, and his awful wife, who had a loud and distinctive laugh like a badly flushed toilet. They were both what you would call extra plenty, saying far too much, far too loudly, despite having nothing of interest to say.

As David and Janet entered the living room, Richard the dick was in full flow. He had declared there to be a very strong presence in the house, something David would agree with, although he doubted that Richard the dick would be able to tell one way or the other. He had already established, or so he said, that this was because the house was built on the route taken by the condemned as they made their way from Newgate Jail, through the city, to be hanged on the gallows at Bewell’s Cross.

David happened to know this was complete bollocks. Over the past couple of years since David had established that he could undoubtedly detect some sort of sensations of – something – which people associate with what they call hauntings, he and Janet had made a hobby out of visiting supposedly haunted locations around Bristol. One of these was a church on the route to the gallows at Bewell’s Cross, so he knew exactly where the gallows had been, and the route the condemned men and women walked to meet their fate, and it was nowhere near this house.

David was tempted to say something, just to make Richard the dick look like a dick, but his attention was distracted by what was in the house. No wonder the cat did not like being in here.

David was not too keen on it himself.

It had been two years since he had first trained himself to focus on these intuitions that he sensed, and he was becoming much better at understanding them. This was without doubt the strongest he had encountered, and the first he would describe as malevolent. There was always a popular desire to claim all hauntings to be caused by demons, even though they are quite harmless, but this was the first that David would describe as frightening.

This thing had power.

While Richard the dick warbled on about the irrelevant history of the gallows about a quarter of a mile away, David nudged Janet and they gradually shuffled their way in the direction of the kitchen where a tired and stressed woman looked on.

‘I assume this is your house,’ David almost whispered, not wanting to draw the attention of Richard the dick.

Something in David’s manner told her that this man was not like the others she now regretted inviting into her home. ‘Yes, I’m Lisa.’

‘Hi, I’m David, and this is my wife Janet. Could we have a word somewhere quiet, away from all this?’ A mere look in his eyes indicated who he meant by all this.

‘Yeah, sure. Come into the kitchen.’ Lisa led the way out of the room.

David closed the door quietly as another loud snorting laugh erupted from the living room. ‘Sorry, I can’t hear myself think with all that going on.’

‘Yes, it’s, erm, not what I expected,’ Lisa admitted.

‘This may sound odd, but do you have a teenage daughter in the house?’

Lisa gave David a suspicious look. ‘I do.’

‘And she’s in the house at the moment, sort of there?’ David pointed in the direction of an upstairs room.

‘She is.’ Lisa looked at him even more distrustfully. ‘Why do you ask?’

‘Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I think she is somehow connected to what’s happening here.’

Lisa was hearing words she did not want to hear and had finally had enough. Instead of making any reply, she was thinking of how best to get all these people out of her house.

‘Bear with me,’ David said. ‘There’s somebody she’s very close to called Beth.’ As he said this, he saw a mixture of distrust and dislike flash across Lisa’s face. ‘You see, everything I can feel in this house is coming from up there.’ He pointed at the upstairs room again. ‘And is directed at somebody called Beth.’

‘How do you know this?’ Lisa stood defensively, arms folded across her chest.

‘I don’t know,’ David admitted. ‘It’s just something I pick up. I can’t explain it. All I know is that there is a very strong feeling in this house, and it has something to do with your daughter, and someone called Beth. Something happened between your daughter and Beth, and I will take a guess it was around the time when odd things started to happen here.’ David was not sure if he should say any more. He still did not know how accurate these feelings and pictures were that he picked up, but some instinct told him he was right.

‘Your daughter and Beth are very close, intense, like teenage girls sometimes are, but they had some sort of falling out, and your daughter is blaming herself for it. For some reason I can’t explain, that is what is behind all this.’

‘Beth is her best friend,’ Lisa said. ‘And yes, they did have an argument.’

‘And for some reason, your daughter can’t say sorry,’ David added. ‘Not because she doesn’t want to, or anything like that. There is some physical reason why she can’t talk to Beth.’

Lisa looked angrily at David while she thought about what to say. ‘If this is meant to be some sort of stunt or trick, it’s in very bad taste.’

David knew he shouldn’t have said that last bit. So much for trusting his instincts. ‘Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any offense. It’s just what comes into my head, and I know that sounds all wrong.’

It was time to make their exit. That would be two out of the grand total of three club meetings he had been to where he had legged it because of saying the wrong thing.

‘How do you know Beth?’ Lisa asked as David was working out how they could leave without causing any more trouble? ‘More to the point, how do you know Emma?’

‘I’m sorry. I don’t know Beth, and I assume Emma must be your daughter.’ This was getting very awkward, and David just wanted to leave, right now. ‘I honestly didn’t know anything until I walked through your front door. It’s just what I pick up in your house. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say the wrong thing.’

‘Do you really think this is what’s gone wrong in this house?’ Lisa asked, looking worn down again rather than angry.

‘I do.’ David saw some hope that they could leave before things got any worse. ‘I can’t say why, or what you can do about it, but that’s what I…’ He ran out of words and merely shrugged.

‘What can you tell me about my daughter?’

David tried to think how best to put into words things he didn’t understand himself. It wasn’t helped by another loud laugh from through the closed door, reminding him of the background droning noise of Richard the dick.

‘When I walked into your house, I could feel something very strong; anger is the best way to describe it. That will be the bad feeling you can sense in here, what you asked us to come and look at. I can tell it comes from a teenage girl who you have now told me is Emma, and I can tell which part of the house she is in right now. Up there.’ Again, he pointed to a room upstairs that was definitely central to everything.

‘As part of that, I get details that make no sense to me, but together it all makes a picture. I get the name Beth, but not as a word. It’s hard to describe. I just know it is somebody called Beth that your daughter is very close to. I also pick up a whole mix of emotional stuff, best described as anger, remorse, regret, shame even. The regret is because she knows she can’t talk to Beth to put things right.’

Once again, David feared he was about to say the wrong thing, but his instincts told him he had to say it. ‘What is turning all this into something so strong that you can feel it, and yes, maybe for reasons we can’t explain, she is even breaking things…’

Oh bloody hell. Why did he have to say she instead of it.

Lisa was looking at him expectantly rather than with utter loathing, so perhaps he hadn’t put his foot in it again.

Yet.

‘I think the reason it is so strong is because your daughter is torturing herself. She thinks it’s all her fault, but it isn’t. Beth was going to do it anyway.’

David had run out of words. Nothing more he could say.

Lisa stared into space. The sound of voices and the hideous laugh seemed loud from the other room.

‘I’d like you to talk to Emma please, if you don’t mind,’ Lisa eventually said. ‘Just let me get rid of this lot first.’ She busied herself around the kitchen, as if doing these things restored her energy. ‘Would you like a tea or coffee?’

‘Tea would be lovely thanks,’ Janet said quickly before David declined the offer, as she knew he would.

Lisa set the kettle to boil. ‘Just excuse me for a minute.’ She left David and Janet in the kitchen, closing the door as she went. There was the sound of many voices and people moving about.

‘Well, this is a different way to spend Halloween,’ Janet said, looking like she was feeling the discomfort every bit as much as David.

‘This paranormal club stuff is going so well,’ David agreed sarcastically.

‘What are you going to say to Emma?’

‘I haven’t the foggiest idea.’ David pinched the bridge of his nose, a nervous habit when he was thinking, and right now he was thinking about how to get out of this house, preferably without saying another word to anybody, never mind to a teenage girl who seemed nailed on to be more than a little stroppy.

‘Would it be rude to just do a runner?’ Janet asked, only half joking.

They stood in silence. When the drumming noise of the kettle clicked off, they noticed the house had gone quiet. After a time that seemed to drag on forever, they heard movement, and Lisa returned, followed by a small and delicate-looking girl with an expression lost in sorrow.

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t catch your names. So much going on,’ Lisa said. ‘This is Emma. She’s a bit tired.’

‘Hi Emma. I’m David, and this is Janet.’ David had been bracing himself for a fiery teenager, and wondered how such a reserved looking girl could possibly generate so much anger? It flowed around her like something that should be visible.

‘Milk, sugar?’ Lisa asked, busying herself with mugs.

‘Just milk for both of us thanks,’ Janet said.

‘Do you want anything sweetheart?’ Lisa asked.

‘Can I have a fruit tea please mum?’ Emma spoke quietly, her small voice almost lost in the room. She went to sit at the table by the window, looking blankly at nowhere.

An uncomfortable silence passed while Lisa poured water into mugs and went through the rituals of making tea.

‘Shall we go through to the living room?’ Lisa asked as she handed hot mugs to David and Janet.

The room that previously held a dozen or more people was now peacefully empty. David took a seat next to Janet on the sofa, wondering what on earth he was supposed to say to this painfully shy young girl?

‘Right then, love,’ Lisa said when they were all settled. ‘David came here to see if he can do anything about the bad things that have been going on in the house. He is one of those paranormal investigators you said we should get in touch with, and it looks like you were right.’

David did not feel like a paranormal investigator at that moment, just like somebody out of his depth who wanted to go home.

‘David can tell there is something like that in this house,’ Lisa continued, ‘but he also said something I think you should hear.’

Now David really was feeling uncomfortable, being cornered into telling this fragile girl that the bad vibes in the house were all her fault.

‘David could tell just from coming into the house that you are really upset, and he even knows it is something to do with Beth. Now David doesn’t know who Beth is or anything about her, isn’t that right?’ Lisa looked at David, expecting him to say something.

‘No, I, erm, didn’t know anything about Beth until I walked through your front door. I still don’t actually. All I know is that you are very upset about something to do with someone called Beth, and she was your best friend.’

David had said the wrong thing again.

‘Not was, she still is your best friend. She’s the best friend you’ve ever had, which is why you are so upset because you can’t talk to her.’

Emma started to cry, staring at the carpet, sniffing and wiping away tears. David had no idea how to deal with teenage girls at the best of times, never mind crying teenage girls.

‘That’s not everything you told me in the kitchen earlier,’ Lisa put an arm around her daughter to comfort her.

David could not think what she was talking about. He tried to remember what he had said. What had he missed?

‘You told me it wasn’t Emma’s fault,’ Lisa said. ‘Emma thinks she is to blame for what happened to Beth, but you said it wasn’t her fault.’

‘How can you know that?’ Emma said into the tissue her mother had given her. ‘How can you say it wasn’t my fault?’

David shrugged. How could he explain that it was just a feeling he didn’t even understand himself? ‘I don’t know, I just do. I can only guess it is because you know, deep down it wasn’t your fault, and she was going to do it anyway. Maybe she told you and you have forgotten, or maybe you are just stopping yourself from remembering. That can happen you know.’

‘What do you mean she was going to do it anyway?’ Emma looked up, confused rather than upset.

‘I don’t know what that means,’ David admitted. ‘It’s just something mixed up with everything else.’

‘What happened to Beth?’ Janet asked. ‘What did she do?’

‘She banged her head,’ Lisa said. ‘Badly. She’s been in a coma for nearly three weeks. Emma and Beth had a falling out at school. I still don’t know why or what any of it was about.’

She sighed and stroked her daughter’s hair into shape, recalling what little she knew. ‘After school, Beth went to her gymnastics training. She’s an amazing gymnast and trains every day. She went to Atlanta with the Olympic Team last year, just to get the experience, even though she was too young to compete. Anyway, she had some sort of accident on the beam that afternoon, and because they had a falling out, Emma has been blaming herself for it.’

‘It was my fault.’ Emma started crying again. An emotional outpouring of uncontrolled crying.

Her mother hugged her close and handed her another tissue. ‘How could it possibly be your fault, love?’

‘Because I knew she was going to do it,’ Emma sobbed.

‘Do what, sweetheart?’

‘The team coach was going to be there, and she wanted to impress him, so she was going to do a double flip thing she’s been learning. That’s why we fell out. I didn’t want her to do it because she’s not ready to do it on her own. It’s like I already knew it would go wrong’

‘That doesn’t make it your fault, sweetheart.’ Lisa hugged her daughter close, giving her another tissue.

‘It was my fault because I said she couldn’t do it, and told her not to, but she said she’d do it anyway and prove me wrong.’

‘Oh, that doesn’t make it your fault,’ Lisa tried to reassure her, but Emma was too upset to listen. ‘David can tell it wasn’t your fault. You’ve been blaming yourself for nothing all this time. We’ll go and see her in hospital tomorrow.’

Emma sobbed and sniffed, then calmed herself a little. ‘Yes please,’ she whispered.

‘You can tell her you’re still best friends. It might even help to make her better. They say things like that help, so let’s do that.’

‘Your mum’s right. I can’t explain why because I just don’t know, but one of the things I can tell is that whatever you said, she was going to do that anyway.’ David saw his words taking effect as Emma looked up and smiled through the tears, as if a great weight had been lifted from her. ‘It really wasn’t your fault, so stop beating yourself up.’

‘You see, love,’ her mother hugged her close again. ‘We’ll go and see her tomorrow, and you can take her some of your music that she likes.’

‘Emma,’ David said gently. ‘How did you know Beth was going to do this jump or whatever it was?’ He felt the oppressive anger and hurt in the house fading while he spoke. ‘She hadn’t told you, had she? That’s why she was angry. She didn’t want you to know because she knew you would try to stop her.’

‘I don’t know.’ Emma shrugged, and seemed unsure if she should say anything. ‘It’s always like that with me and Beth. We can always tell what each other is thinking. She didn’t have to tell me, because I already knew.’

Just under a mile away, in a ward in Bristol Royal Infirmary, Beth opened her eyes.

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Other David Hammond stories on Substack:

Selected Memories

Last Orders at the Bar

The New House

You can read about the full collection at www.nigelcode.co.uk where you will find my research project, and my thoughts about why not everything that is claimed to be paranormal is nonsense.

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