Your ever-loving Uncle Gregory
I read and reread the letter, trying to figure out what on earth he was talking about. I didn’t like that final paragraph. It sounded a little too much like a threat to me. Why couldn’t he just tell me what I needed to know instead of leaving me all these enigmatic notes?
And who had pushed the note under the cupboard door?
Unless...
I went over to the cupboard and went down on my hands and knees, examining the floor closely.
“A-ha!”
I found exactly what I was looking for. I crowed triumphantly as I stood up holding a piece of thread so narrow it was almost invisible. My uncle must have rigged some kind of device that meant that once I came into the study, it would be triggered and push the note under the door. It looked like a ghost had been playing tricks on me, but it was just my uncle messing with me from beyond the grave.
All those strange noises I’d heard must have been recordings. I reckoned that if I went through the house and looked carefully, I’d find motion sensors and triggers which set off recordings to make me think I was living in a haunted mansion when really it was all the product of a man with more money than sense and more time than he knew what to do with. This must be how he had entertained himself – spending his days creating elaborate machines to fool visitors into thinking they were seeing ghosts.
I let out a sigh of relief, laughing a little at how silly I’d been. I didn’t care what my uncle said. There was always a logical explanation for everything.
Now I wasn’t worried about an intruder attacking me, I could relax and carry on exploring the house. And now I was here, I might as well get a good look at my uncle’s study. Maybe he had something interesting on his bookshelves. I needed a good book to read in bed.
Whoa.
As I examined my uncle’s book collection, I could understand why he kept this room locked. He was into some seriously dark things. He had books by Aleister Crowley, books covered with strange occult symbols, books which claimed to teach the reader how to summon spirits or tell the future.
What on earth were you doing, Uncle Gregory?
I’d seen enough. I decided to lock up the room and leave it for now. I didn’t even want to donate the books to charity – who would want them?
Just as I was leaving, I heard a gentle thud from one of the cupboards. Turning to see what had made the noise, I saw that a book had fallen from one of the shelves and was resting against the glass. When I opened the door, the book tumbled out, pages fluttering out.
I picked it up and realized that it was a diary of some kind. Flicking through it, I could see that it documented the last few months of my uncle’s life.
It looked like I’d found my bedtime reading after all.
Continuing my tour of the mansion, I realized none of the other rooms of the ground floor was half as interesting as my uncle’s study, so I moved upstairs.
It was nothing but bedroom after bedroom, each one looking like it’d come straight out of the pages of a glossy magazine. Although they were all luxurious, there was something soulless about rooms so perfect. This was a house, not a home.
I was beginning to feel sorry for my uncle. All that money, but he was alone with just a housekeeper and a niece he never bothered to contact.
I could relate. Although I’d had a happy childhood, that ended the day Mum died. I knew Dad loved me, but he’d retreated into himself. There was no room for me in his grief. And while I’d partied hard, not a single one of my so-called friends had reached out to me since I’d said I was moving out to Lashire Bluff.
At the end of a corridor was a pair of double doors. As I pushed them open, my jaw dropped. This must have been my uncle’s room. Or rather, suite.
A short corridor had a door on either side, one leading to a private bathroom, the other to a walk-in wardrobe that was bigger than my old bedroom. It opened up into an enormous room. The wall opposite was one huge window with breath-taking views across the mountains and town. Crossing over, I realized it was later in the day than I’d thought. I’d lost track of time with all the drama surrounding the study, and the sun was setting behind the mountains, bathing the town in a warm orange glow.
Tears sprang to my eyes with how beautiful it all was. And this was my home now, if I decided to stay.
Rose was right. There was no way I wasn’t going to take this room for my own. Although Uncle Gregory had good taste, I was already imagining how I was going to redecorate and where all my things were going to go.
Matthew was right. I needed to spend a couple of months here before walking away. I had to experience for myself what life in a small town was really like before turning my back on it.
Guess I was going to get my stuff shipped.
***
That night, I curled up in my new bed with Uncle Gregory’s diary, hoping it would give me new insights into the man. I’d found a cupboard filled with clean bedding and changed the bed before I slept in it. Rose had probably already done that, but I wasn’t going to take any risks. It might be beautiful, but it was still my uncle’s room and a little superstitious voice in
