The Caretaker (a short Ghost story)

The Caretaker

‘Hello, anyone there?’

Steven didn’t shout too loud; it was just a precaution; he didn’t expect anyone - not yet. He could take a look around on his own. He resisted looking through the letterbox; instead his gaze fell on the window – was there a movement through the gap in the curtains? Or was it a trick of the light?

The door opened with a creak and candle light flickered to reveal a tall thin figure.

‘Sorry - I’m a bit early’ Steven said defensively.

‘You’re on time’ He didn’t sound like an estate agent- but he was how Steven had imagined; matching his name: Mr. Grey; tall and gaunt, dressed in a grey suit; rather like a butler.

On time? Steven resisted checking his watch.

‘Mr. Grey?’ Maybe he was the caretaker?

Mr Grey turned to lead the way; mumbled something with his back to Steven; it could have been ‘come in’ but Steven couldn’t be sure. His eyes were adjusting to the darkened interior as the candle light was shielded by the retreating figure; Steven followed; he had to - unless he wanted to be left in the dark.

They stopped in a small undistinguished room; it was unfurnished with just a few remnant furnishings covered in dustsheets. The place had obviously been unoccupied for a long time; it had an air of abandonment.

Steven knew what to look for: in the flicker of candle light he noted the damp patches, the grime and dust – and the smell of decay…fungal? He didn’t need to see any more - but none the less, he followed Mr Grey to the next room; he could hardly rush off at this stage, could he?

The room was much the same as the last one; only bigger and if anything gloomier. Mr Grey mumbled something; it could have been ‘dining room’. Of course there was nothing to distinguish the room as such; certainly no dining furniture – just a ghostly covered high back chair. Maybe Mr Grey could see the room in its past tense; in its former glory. However, he didn’t articulate, or rather mumble, further; he continued to the next room.

This was unmistakably the kitchen; it wasn’t particularly impressive and the pervasive smell was strongest here – rank!  What’s died, Steven thought - and then he saw a rat scurying behind the ancient wood burning stove; but he didn’t bother to say anything; he just wanted to get the hell out of there.   

Steven’s rising anxiety peaked when he spotted the stain; it was hard to tell in the flickering light but somehow he knew: it was blood! He knew it with a chilling certainty. To hell with this; time for a quick exit – and on that thought he was plunged into darkness! The candle had died.

‘Mr Grey, Hello, are you there?’

Silence; empty silence - this was madness, he had to be there – he couldn’t just vanished, could he? Gone up in a puff of smoke, like the candle?

In the darkness Steven strained his ears and eyes; his vision was adjusting; vague forms were emerging from the shadowy darkness – and he could discern odd background noises. Sure enough, he was on his own; Mr Grey was gone.

As he strained he heard a distant sound coming from the front of the house; a rattle, a creak – was that the door? Then:

‘Hello, anyone there?’

Steven froze - then shouted out:

‘Hello, Mr Grey!’

Even as he shouted he realized that it couldn’t be Mr Grey. The voice was too clear, even at this distance.

‘Yes, is that you Mr Layton?’

Could he have been mistaken? Or had Mr Grey miraculously learned to annunciate?

He could hear footsteps approaching. Abruptly lights flickered on; so there were electric lights! He was momentarily blinded.

‘Hello, Hello!’ he called out.

‘Mr Layton…sorry I’m late’

Late? Steven stood blinking at the small, stout man in front of him, who proffered his hand. Mr Grey!?

They shook hands and exchanged glances; Mr Grey’s round pleasant face questioning.

‘What were you doing in the dark?’

Steven hesitated to explain; he looked embarrassed.

‘Well, I was early… the caretaker let me in, at least I assumed that’s who he was’

Mr Grey’s expression changed; he gave Steven a queer look. ‘What caretaker? The buildings been empty ever since-‘ He caught himself midsentence: ‘ever since…didn’t you hear about it?’ Mr Grey scrutinised him.

Steven was expressionless; shook his head. A shiver ran up his spine.

Somehow he knew what Mr Grey was going to say. ‘Ever since…the MURDER!’