Page 8 of Curse of the Stag's Eye
“This bloke, Baines, took over as Principal Keeper in about 1810 but he’d worked here for a few years before he earned his promotion.”
“And you’re sure it’s him that haunting this place?” Dawn asked.
“So the keepers who were stationed here over the years have always said.” He faced the photograph on the wall. “Baines didn’t get along with the other keepers, and when he was put in charge, his temper got worse. He argued with all the men under him.
“In his official report, Mr Squirrel said on the day he was killed, Baines had spent all morning up on the gallery — the balcony outside, around the lamp. A squall had kicked up and the rain was lashing the lighthouse, but Baines didn’t seem to notice. A packet ship had been caught in the storm and was struggling. Baines wanted to sail out in a little fishing boat to help but the weather made it far too treacherous. Besides, another passing ship had already changed course to intercept and offer assistance. They were too late, though. The packet ship sank with no survivors.
“That same afternoon, William Jessop returned after a year’s absence, looking for his old job back. He and Baines argued and apparently came to blows. Mr Squirrel later found Baines’ body.” Rhys’ voice had become a whisper. “In that very bed. In full uniform, boots and all.” He crept over to the bed, holding the lantern high. Shadows danced on the curved wall. “He’d been strangled. Some of the local fishermen told Mr Squirrel thatthey’d seen Jessop on a boat headed to America. But, like I said, he was never heard from again.”
The wind howled outside. A fog started to roll in from the sea. Something clinked on the floor and rolled towards me.
Nikesh pointed and yelled: “Look!”
A fountain pen had fallen from the desk. “Calm down. Rhys probably knocked it loose.” I picked it up and put it back on the writing desk.
Rhys crouched and carefully watched the pen to see if it would move again. “Ever since Howard Baines was murdered, there’s been reports of his ghost walking the stairs, tending to the light, watching the sea... Some keepers wouldn’t go up to the lamp room alone.”
“Do you think we’ll see him in here? His ghost, I mean?” Nikesh took his phone out and flicked its torch around the room.
Rhys closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I don’t feel anything here. Do any of you?”
I didn’t know what I was supposed to feel but I shook my head, regardless.
“Have any of you done anything like this before?” Rhys asked.
I hadn’t wasted my time in a cold, remote building looking for something that doesn’t exist. “I haven’t, no.”
“She has.” Nikesh held his hand up like an eager schoolchild and pointed to Dawn. “She’s done them all: Shrewsbury Prison, Blickling Hall, Chillingham Castle. She’s even done Pendle Hill. This is my first one, though. I’m nervous. Can you tell? I talk a lot when I’m nervous. Sorry.”
“That’s okay; don’t worry.” Rhys smile grew wider. “This sort of thing can be a bit scary but nothing here can hurt you. Have you ever seen anything, Dawn? On the other hunts?”
“Ah, no, not really.” Dawn shrugged.
“I once saw a dark shape with glowing eyes dart across the floor of a church,” Nikesh said. “But it turned out to be the Vicar’s cat. Do you run a lot of tours?”
“This is my first one, can you tell?” Rhys laughed then. Chuckled, really. “I normally do all my investigations alone. It’s nice to have a bit of company. None of my friends find the paranormal very interesting. Not that I have many.” His smile faltered a little.
“What’s your plan?” I asked. “How do theseinvestigationsof yours work?” It took a lot of effort to keep my voice airy.
Rhys lit up again. I could almost see his tail wagging. “I spend the night in a place and I document any spooky goings-on. If there is something, I try to talk to it and encourage it to move on. You know. To the other side. To their eternal rest.”
“And what do you tell the owners?”
“The truth.”
I bit my tongue. “What about infrasound? Couldn't hauntings just be the result of infrasound? It’s been proven to interfere with people’s peripheral vision, hasn’t it? That's what I've read anyway.”
Nikesh frowned. “What’s that when it’s at home?”
“Low frequency sounds,” Rhys said. “Below the range of human hearing.”
I nodded. “It can be caused by waves. Maybe it’s the constant infrasound of the sea lashing outside making people think they’re seeing ghosts?”
“It's one theory,” Rhys said with a shrug.
“You don't think there might be something to it?”
Rhys walked to the doorway. “I believe the evidence of my own eyes, Gaz. I believe the breath on my neck. The goose pimples on my arm. When scientists can use infrasound to make me see a young girl in a white dress walk through a solid bookcase as clearly as I see you now, then I'll believe it.”
