Page 15 of Dancing with a Ghost

The next book I picked up was from 1949. Now we were getting somewhere. Faded writing made some parts difficult to read but it told of life both at the manor and post war. I settled down into an armchair and started to read.

Page after page of the struggles people had endured, how the manor had most of its rooms closed due to the soaring cost of upkeep. The new owner employing just a couple of staff to keep themselves fed and a roof over their head.

As interesting as it was, it wasn’t what I was looking for and reluctantly, I placed it carefully back into the drawer, sifting through the remaining books until I found the two I’d been looking for, 1942 and 1943.

I know Matthias had been shot down in ‘43 but I wanted to see what had happened prior to that, had the unexplained deaths started before then?

Doctor Benedict had been the head honcho but his assistant, James Wilson, had made all the notes, starting from when they arrived in 1942. I scanned each page looking for anything that might give me information but all I could see were lists of medicines, food purchases, patient admissions, nothing that would shed light on any anomalies.

Frustration started to set in. Maybe there’d be nothing in here. Lets face it, would you advertise the fact you had more than average fatalities? It was online though, so someone must have recorded it somewhere.

Until suddenly…..there! December 1942. Three patients in the space of a week, all seemingly on the road to recovery then to die within days of each other.

Three names…..Donald Smith, Peter Donahue and Reginald Parker. Their deaths recorded as unexplained. The injuries they’d sustained had meant they would no longer see active service, but they were being released into the care of their families.

I scanned ahead, looking for more information, but there was nothing other than a mention of their bodies being buried in a nearby graveyard. That warranted more investigation, and I noted down the location, realising it was a mere twenty minutes away from where we were now. Did that mean Matthias had a grave there? Parish records were kept online so I made a note and moved onto the next journal.

1943. The year of Matthias’s death. Amazed at how chill I was about this whole situation, I’d without question accepted the existence of a ghost. Not just any ghost, one that since my first interaction with him, I’d had an overwhelming urge to help and to be near to.

I had no way to explain it nor did I want to. For now, my main concern was helping him, finding out what had happened to him. Other than a few snippets he’d been able to share, he had nothing. If Milton and I could shed more light on his death, then we would.

I carried on reading, noting down names and dates of death. At least three to four each month. Some could be explained, complications from injuries sustained, but gradually, more and more deaths were unexplained. Not that they wrote that, each one listed as heart failure. I found it hard to believe that so many young airmen and soldiers were dying from a bad heart.

“There you are.” I looked up at the sound of Milton’s voice.

“I said I’d be here.” I closed the book I’d been reading, wondering if he’d found anything further. “What have you found?”

He sat in the armchair opposite me, opening up his iPad.

“Not an awful lot, actually. I know the manor was a wartime hospital from 1942 until 1944. Not a long time. Most stayed open until just after the war ended but this one closed with almost no notice. It was put on the market but wasn’t snapped up for a couple of years, and by that time it had fallen into disrepair. Looks like it was bought then by a relative of yours, Edward Ellison-Smythe.

“He fixed it up and stayed here until his death when I think it passed to your mother. Does that sound right?”

“I’d need to check with her but yeah, it sounds right. I need more information on it when it was a hospital though, that’s the time I’m more interested in.

“I really couldn’t find much about that. The records just aren’t there, almost as if they’ve been wiped. I did find the couple of entries you spoke of, but that was it.”

“Really?” That seemed unlikely. Google knew everything, didn’t it?

“That's the only explanation.” Milton added. “I checked records for other wartime hospitals and there’s a lot of information about those, just not this one.”

Frustrated didn't cover it. There had to be something we were missing.

Just then, that all too familiar scent and Matthias began to appear.

“Well, thanks, Milton.” I said. “Why don’t you go and grab a coffee. Thanks for the information.”

“I can look again.” He started to type on his iPad, but I wanted him gone so I could speak freely with Mattias.

“It’s fine. I’ve a few more pages to read and notes to make, so go ahead. I’ll meet you back in the office in a while.”

He stood looking a little puzzled. “Okay. I’ll just, erm, go back then.”

I spoke to thin air, knowing he was there.

“So, can you walk through walls and stuff like that?” I asked Matthias, sitting back in the chair, the journal lying open on my lap.

“No, I can’t. There are a lot of myths surrounding what we can and can’t do. Or maybe that’s just me. I don’t know, really.” He’d finally arrived, looking as good as before.

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