The Lake House - Helen Phifer

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table to brew, she heard the noise and her heart missed a beat. She knew that sound. It was for ever etched into her memory. That jack-in-the-box had been Joe’s favourite toy and he had spent hours turning the handle and playing the music. She felt her legs begin to wobble. Either that man was messing around or something terrible had happened.

      Forcing herself to move, she walked slowly towards the open cellar door. The first thing she noticed was that the smell had gone. He must have cleared the blockage and be rooting around in her belongings. She reached the top step, her fingers brushing against the ancient Cree Indian symbols her father had carved into the back of the cellar door a long time ago to protect them all from the monster that lived down there. He had promised her when they had been done that the thing could not come past them because they were full of ancient Indian power, and she had believed him wholeheartedly. She looked down to the bottom of the steps and saw the circle of light shining into the blackness from the torch, which was now on the floor.

      ‘Are you all finished? I’ve made you a cup of tea and if you’ve got a few minutes to spare there will be some fresh shortbread coming out of the oven to go with it.’

      She was greeted by silence. Then something began to shuffle in the dark and she heard a high-pitched shriek of terror, but it sounded as if it came from somewhere underneath the ground miles away. Terrified, Martha stepped back and slammed the cellar door shut, sliding the bolts across as fast as her shaking hands would let her. She couldn’t do anything to help and she crossed herself, begging God for his forgiveness. Picking up the phone she did the only thing she could think of and rang the police.

      When Annie got into the station she passed the sergeant’s office and heard Inspector Cathy Hayes muttering on the phone to someone. She carried on to the small changing room and hung her jacket up, zipping herself into her body armour and taking hold of her belt. She walked through into the office and was surprised to see an older man sitting at Jake’s desk. Looking at his collar number she saw it began with a seven, which meant he was a special constable and, judging by the sheen of sweat on his brow and the way he kept tapping his foot, a very new one at that.

      ‘Hi, I’m Annie. Is this your first day?’

      He nodded, then jumped up and held out his even sweatier palm.

      ‘Morning, I’m George and yes it is.’

      She shook his hand. ‘Don’t worry about it. You will be fine. It’s a good job you didn’t start yesterday. Have you heard about the severed head my colleague Jake found?’

      His face turned white.

      ‘Oops sorry, I guess you hadn’t. Don’t worry. Things like that don’t happen very often around here.’

      She didn’t add that this was unless he had to work with her, and then it might be a whole different ballgame. She’d terrified the poor guy enough in the space of two minutes. He’d be making a quick exit and never coming back if she told him how in the last two years she had been stalked by a serial killer who had abducted her and tried to kill her down in the cellar of an abandoned mansion, which had once belonged to none other than Jack the Ripper. Thankfully she had overcome Henry Smith to live to tell another tale.

      Then there was her run-in with a nine-year-old ghost called Sophie and the evil Shadow Man who wouldn’t let her go to the light because he collected souls. Annie had fought him with the help of her now good friend Father John, and together they had managed to banish him to the darkness for good and set Sophie free. Last but by no means least was her run-in with Betsy Baker, the woman who, in 1732, had lived in Apple Tree Cottage, which was now Annie’s home. Betsy had poisoned her mother, then set her sights on the most eligible widower in town, killing his children and parents so she could have him and his house all to herself. Betsy had made Annie’s life hell when she and Will started renovating the cottage, giving Annie terrible nightmares and almost killing her in a car crash. Annie had been in a coma and watched the tragedy of Betsy Baker unfold while she was unconscious. Betsy had been hanged for her crimes by a group of angry villagers and buried in her own front garden in an unconsecrated grave.

      Jake had helped Annie to dig her up and, enlisting the services of Father John, they had moved her skeleton to the safety of his church in Bowness where he’d dug a grave and finally given her a proper burial. Yes, it was probably best not to share this information with him so freely.

      Cathy walked in and smiled at Annie as if she was about to eat her, which didn’t bode well for either her or George.

      ‘Morning, PC Ashworth. You drew the short straw. You’re answering any jobs that come in while your lovely colleagues conduct the inquiries regarding that poor bugger’s head we found yesterday. And you, George, I’m afraid drew an even shorter straw by having to work with our Annie here. She’s a walking disaster so I’m relying on you to keep her on the straight and narrow.’

      He vigorously nodded his head. ‘I can try, ma’am.’

      ‘Rule one, George: none of this ma’am bullshit. It makes me sound like I’m your great-aunt. Call me Cathy unless you’ve really screwed up and need to crawl. Annie, I don’t want you getting involved in our severed head case unless it’s life or death. The last thing I want is to be getting indigestion worrying about where you are every hour. Just keep clear of it. Jake was in full agreement and said he’s happy to do your share of the door knocking, and we’ve brought in every PCSO from Barrow and Ulverston anyway so there are plenty of staff to do what needs to be done.’

      Annie knew better than to argue with Cathy and she was quite relieved. She hated endless door knocking and leaflet delivering. Cathy threw the van keys at her.

      ‘Take George and give him the rundown on the area. Show him the best places to get some dinner and a brew.’

      ‘Yes, boss.’

      Cathy grinned at them. ‘And if you both manage to keep out of mischief I’ll be one very happy woman. I’m on my way to see what the troops are up to, so play nice.’

      Annie sat down behind the desk opposite George. ‘Let me just log on to my computer and see what’s been going on in the world of Bowness since I finished work last night – in case there are any jobs that need following up on – and then we’ll go out on mobile patrol.’

      Annie’s radio began to ring.

      ‘Oh and can you bring me back some dinner? I ate my packed lunch before I’d had chance to log on to the computer this morning. Cheers.’

      ‘Yes, boss.’

      George was smiling at her. ‘She seems okay then for a big boss.’

      ‘Yes, she is as long as you’re behaving…no, she is. She’s great and has been brilliant with me since I moved up here.’

      She stopped herself again from giving him the rundown on her life. She didn’t know the man at all so until she did the less said the better. Her radio crackled and the voice on the other end called her number.

      ‘Can you attend Beckett House on Windermere Road, please. It’s a grade two. Elderly woman reporting the man who came to unblock her drains has come to some harm. She thinks he has disappeared in her cellar and may have come to some harm down there. She can’t go down to see if he’s okay because she’s not good on her legs.’

      ‘Roger, I’m on my way. Can you show me in seven zero and I also have…’ – she tilted her head to read the epaulettes on his shoulders – ‘…I also have 7993 with me.’

      She stood up and George followed her as she strode outside to the van.

      ‘What’s a grade two again?’

      ‘It means it’s important but not as important as a grade one, which is an emergency response. There’s two-hour time limit on getting to the job.’

      ‘Oh, so no blue lights and sirens this time?’

      ‘No,

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