We present an extract from Crowfield House, the debut novel by writer and podcaster Monica Mc Guinness.
Crowfield, Nora's ancestral home, a falling-down mausoleum, eerie, empty, waiting for a new family. 'Of course, it’s not haunted – it’s just a strange old house, that’s all,’ Nora says, and they believe her. Well, Elspeth does but Eric has his doubts. Then, on a stormy summer night they both go into the woods of Crowfield but only Elspeth returns, barely alive.
Now, twenty years later, Nora still lives in Crowfield, which has become a perpetual shrine to Eric’s memory, and Elspeth struggles with her tragic past, pushing it down, forgetting all...
The smell was the first thing that struck her about Crowfield. It wasn't the long dimly lit passageways or the general shabbiness – no, it was that pervading odour. It was everywhere and in every room. A rich earthy scent but not necessarily a bad one. It was almost like being inside an underground cave, one that was filled with moss and densely packed clay. Crowfield never smelled like a normal house, not even when open fires were blazing in the hearths. Even then, it still managed to feel like they were deep underground – moles, blind creatures, just feeling their way about and hoping not to bump into something that would regard them as food.
"Where are the lights?" Eric asked.
Nora began flicking at the switches inside the doorway to no avail. "Perhaps they turned off the power after Harry died," she muttered to herself. "Never mind. It’s perfectly fine. There must be candles somewhere. Elspeth – why don’t you go and see if you can find some? I’ll wait here with Eric."
Elspeth really didn’t want to go deeper into the house. "But I don’t know where to look. I’ve never been here before."
"Don’t be silly," her mother replied. "Just follow your nose. Now quick smart, off you go!" And she even gave Elspeth a little push into the gloomy hall.
"I think the kitchen should be down at the end of the hall," she said from the safety of the front door.
Elspeth began to walk in a straight line with her hands outstretched. There seemed to be no windows throwing any light into the house at all. It just seemed to be one endless stretch of blackness before her. She could hear her mother talking to Eric, her words low and whispery. Elspeth was sure she was just reassuring him about the house and where they were going to sleep that night but it sounded ominous. A mocking voice in the darkness. She felt like a sacrifice to her mother’s madness.
As her eyes slowly grew accustomed to the low light around her, she began to see objects. A winding staircase to her right and now an open door on her left. The room was lit from the moonlight outside. She could clearly see an overlarge fireplace and a long high-backed couch and there, sitting on the mantelpiece, were candles in two enormous silver candlesticks.
She walked by the couch, arms still outstretched, feeling her way carefully, her mother’s voice just the merest hint of a whisper now, a snake-hiss in the background. The moon had disappeared and the room was a mass of shadows but she was able to reach up and pull the first candlestick to the edge. There was a narrow box beside it – matches.
She shouted back into the darkness towards the open door. "I’ve found candles! I’m in a sitting room – it’s on the left-hand side!"
She could hear her mother whispering again but she couldn’t make out the words.
Elspeth struck a match and it sparked, then burst into a tiny flame. Carefully she lit the wax candle and shone it around the room. She heard her mother and Eric cheer as they saw the light flare into the corridor.
Then she reached for the other candlestick. She could see the room reflected in the dusty mirror above her and that was when she saw the face, thin and hollow-cheeked, eyes deep-set and glittering, almost hidden in the shadows at the back of the room.
Elspeth screamed and dropped the candlestick. Darkness enveloped the room and she heard quick footsteps. Her mother was by her side.
"What happened?"
"There was a man! There!" Elspeth pointed towards the corner where she’d seen him.
Nora fumbled for the dropped candlestick and Elspeth gave her the matches. Light blazed again, illuminating the space.
"Who’s there?" Nora demanded. "Show yourself!"
Silence. None of them moved. Eric had positioned himself between the fireplace and his mother. Elspeth looked at the space where she had seen the face but it was empty, just a curved alcove, nothing to see but darkness and shadows flickering in the meagre light.
Nora shook her head "I don’t see anyone. Are you sure you – ?" she trailed off without finishing the question.
Elspeth nodded frantically. "He was over there."
Nora began to walk towards the place she was pointing at. Elspeth and Eric hurried in her wake, not wanting to be left outside the tiny circlet of light. Nora held the candle higher but there was nothing to see, just a tall dusty bookcase set back into a recess.
"No one there now," Nora announced, in a confident tone.
"Was it a ghost?" Eric asked, staring at Elspeth, his eyes saucer-wide as he firmly held on to the back of Nora’s coat.
"No. Probably just a reflection in the mirror," Nora replied, shooting a glance at Elspeth.
Elspeth, catching her mother’s eye, began to nod. "Yeah. I must have been imagining it, Eric. Seeing things, after the long journey, you know."
Eric didn’t look convinced but Nora was drawing back the curtains as much as possible, so the moonlight filtered in. "Why don’t we light a fire?" she said with a smile. "Look! Everything we need is here."
She pushed the heavy couch forward so they would be closer to the fireplace. Eric and Elspeth sat, huddled together, while Nora busied herself, arranging the fire-stuff and then laughing with delight as the fire took hold.
"See, I haven’t lost my touch! Auntie Caroline showed me how to set a fire when I was a little girl. Not much bigger than you, Eric."
"Can you show me how to do it?" he asked.
"Of course. But it will have to be tomorrow."
She sat between them on the dusty couch and they quietly watched the flames. There was something friendly and warming about the bright leaping colours and the crackle and spit of the burning logs.
"We’d better settle down – I know you must be tired, Eric," Nora said, breaking the silence eventually. "You too, Elspeth."
Crowfield House is published by Poolbeg Press
