There was no one by the gates. I slipped in through the narrow, tall pedestrian gate quickly and moved closer to the trees that lined the long driveway. The light was fading fast and the breeze getting cooler. I walked on towards the house, hidden behind the large trees and bushy plants. There was no one about, as far as I could see. I observed the house from a distance; lots of lights everywhere, nothing ghostlike or even mysterious about it. I managed to circle the house. Again, everything seemed perfectly innocent; I even heard some domestics laughing together. The impressive ancient front door was shut, but a narrow door, clearly the staff entrance at the back of the house, was ajar, though I did not see anyone coming out or going in. I was wondering what to do next when someone actually came out of the door. I immediately crouched down behind some bushes. It was a slim boy wearing a long, white apron. He smoked a cigarette, walking up and down in the courtyard, and then went back inside.
‘Maybe I have made a mistake. There is nothing suspicious here,’ I thought to myself, but I hung about for a while, camouflaged by the shrubbery. ‘Might as well,’ I told myself. I glanced at my wristwatch; it was six o’clock. ‘Half an hour, then I am out of here.’
A figure appeared suddenly, as if from nowhere; a tallish, broad man in an old-fashioned grey overcoat and breeches. He went right up to the wall, peered inside some windows, his face right up against the glass, looked over his shoulder and slipped in through the kitchen door. My heart beat loudly in my chest. Without a moment’s hesitation, I too went up to the walls of the house and looked in through the same window. Then, with a soft tread, I went inside.
I found myself in a narrow, long passage. I began to walk ahead, wondering what I would say if someone appeared. At the end of the passage was a wooden staircase, again narrow; clearly the servants’ stairs. Ahead was a dead end with corridors leading in opposite directions. I was wondering which path to take when I heard voices. Quick as lightning, I bounded back towards the stairs, climbed up a few steps and stood very still, holding my breath and crossing my fingers that, whoever they were, they would not come upstairs. There were two male voices discussing which day each would take off. They stood right under the stairs, negotiating with each other, then went back to wherever they had come from. I breathed again and looked about me; it was dark now. Slowly, I climbed up the remaining stairs, feeling the walls as I went. I found myself in a small square landing, with three doors leading in different directions. There were dark wooden panels on the walls that matched the polish on the stairs. It was all a little claustrophobic in the dark, a little musty smelling too!
I tried to open the doors; two were locked. I pushed open the door opposite the stairs and peered in. To my surprise, it was an even narrower staircase, almost like a doll’s house. I listened with my ear against the wall. There appeared to be silence, so slowly, as noiselessly as possible on an old, wooden staircase, I climbed up. This was a very short climb; five-six steps and I found myself looking into a large attic. There was light in an uneven pattern through the cracks in the roof. This made the entire effect extremely sinister. I moved into the attic; dust covers on what must be mostly furniture, a musty smell of mothballs everywhere. Then I heard it; a low sound, sort of rustling of paper. Stealthily, I moved about in different directions, till I saw, very clearly, the silhouette of a person bending over a large trunk at the furtherest end of the spacious attic. I stood still, behind a wooden pillar, and observed him. The figure was holding a torch light and peering at what looked like sheets of paper. The shadow was magnified on the wall. I stood there, not daring to breathe, but then something moved across the floor and I jumped. I could not help it, it was an instinct. Must have been a mouse or something. In dismay, I looked towards the figure. He dropped his papers into the trunk and rushed towards the stairs I had just come from, almost up to the pillar behind which I was standing. I moved away just in time and he was gone. I stayed where I was for a bit, then walked up to the open trunk. I picked up the papers; they appeared to be stiff sheets, handwritten, but it was too dark to read without a torch light. ‘What if the man is standing in the shadows, watching me?’ I thought suddenly. To date, I have no idea why I felt nervous suddenly, as though I sensed danger. All I can say is that I felt a chill, a sense of evil. I was convinced there was something terribly wrong here in The Grange.
I made my way towards the end of the attic, searching for the stairs I had come up in. I placed my hand on the balustrade, my ears straining to listen. Strangely, there was silence, not even a murmur of voices one would expect in any functioning household. I stood there, looking down at the descending darkness, the narrow wooden stairs. That’s when I felt it. It was just a nudge, very gentle, on my back. I uttered an involuntary cry, looked over my shoulder fearfully and at the same time lost my balance. I could not stop myself and fell down the short flight of stairs.