The High Brooms Horror (Olivia March)

[The Director]

Olivia scurried up from the print room of The Sentinel (they had the best coffee machine there) and headed for her Editor's office, trying to juggle her drink with her notepad and pen.

She'd been promised "a special story", and the old man wasn't about to disappoint. Seated across from him was a chubby nervous fellow squeezed into an ill-fitting QS suit and sporting a bad comb-over.



Olivia took the only empty seat, setting her coffee down on the edge of The Editor's desk.

"This is Mr Abacus," says the Editor, introducing the chubby man to Olivia. "He's a landlord with an 'interesting' problem, that he thinks is right up our alley."

Mr Abacus was sweating slightly, tugging at his collar like a nervous schoolboy, unused to wearing 'smart' clothes. "It's this house, see, that I own, up in High Brooms, near Southborough. I bought it for a song, but now I learn that the previous tenants suffered a ...er... tragedy. They, the Macario's, moved in in '04. About a year later, Mr Macario suffered an accident and then went mad. Violent, see? He was banged up, then a month later his wife follows suit - babbling about a ghost with fiery eyes.

"Neither of them would go in one particular bedroom upstairs. Now, I knew it was rumoured to be haunted when I got the place - how'd ya think I got it so cheap, but now I'm wondering if there ain't some truth to these stories. Do you think I could make some money off this - haunted house tours or something?"

So Clare, what do you want Olivia to do? Normally I'd leave it at that, but I'll throw out some suggestions for you to get started ... do you want to ask Abacus anymore questions, and if so what? Do you want to visit the Macario's in Schofield Asylum For The Criminally Insane, Pembury? Do you want to check The Sentinel's morgue for earlier stories about this house? Any other investigations you wish to carry out? Or do you want to go straight to the house?

[Olivia March]

Ugh, not another non-story. Scoop is taking the piss -- again. I'm going to sulk and refuse to take it and if Scoop sacks me, I'll tell him to stick his stupid job. Actually, I have a mortgage to pay, and throwing a hissy fit is not going to help me find Jack. So instead...

I'm going to ask Mr Abacus if he has any tenants living in the place now, and if he can give me a phone number. And I'm going to ask him if he's had any odd experiences in the house.

I'm going to arrange to meet Abacus at the house later this afternoon (that's going to annoy Scoopy, because he's expecting me to go and photograph some footballer's wife going into the hairdresser to have a disasterous do repaired). I'm going to ask Abacus to give me a guided tour, because I want to take some pictures of him in the haunted bedroom -- for publicity, see, as a special favour. And I want to see his reaction.

Then I'm going to suggest he speaks to Diana in Lovely Homes about maybe running a piece in the lettings section (because I don't like him much, and I know she's a mean old biddy who will intimidate him).

If Abacus gave the number of the tenants, I'm going to call them and have a chat.

Then I'm going to check the morgue for stories about this house (including anything in Lovely Homes), about Abacus and his other properties, and about the Macarios.

When Diana has finished terrorising Abacus, I'm going to make her ring the Schofield Asylum and ask if it would be possible to have a chat with the Macarios over the phone. If they say no, which knowing my luck, they will, I'm going to go down to the Asylum to be a visiting niece who has driven such a long way today -- all the way down from Sheffield. Either way, I want to know in their own words, 'What happened at the house?'

And then I'm going up to the house for a look around. I'm going to arrive half an hour early and see what next door has to say; and then I'm going to go into the village shop and make a few enquiries there, also.

[The Director]

"There's no one living there now, sister," Abacus nervously laughed after Olivia asked for details of the current tenants. "It's in a right state. No one's been in since the Macario's. I ... I've thought about doing it up, but it's like something off of Living TV, you know? Derek Acorah and that blond bit from Blue Peter? It's just a feeling, see. Not that I've seen a ghost or anything ..."

He tries to force a smile and Olivia chokes on her coffee.

"So, you're not planning on letting it anything soon?" she asked, mentally scratching her plan to pair him off with Diana's in the Lovely Homes section. "Why don't we meet up there later this afternoon and you can give me a tour of the place. I can take some pictures of you in the 'haunted bedroom' ... for publicity."

Abacus blanches and looks to the Editor, then back at Olivia and tugs again at his collar. "I ... I... guess so."

---

A trawl of the morgue turned up only a brief article on the Macario's - setting out the facts pretty much as Olivia knew them - but attached to the file was a second clipping of some notes that had been cut from the story (see above) because they were basically hearsay.

She copied some bullet points into her notebook, then went out into the car park to get her car for a quick visit to the Schofield Asylum and see if she can charm her way in to see to Macario's! She's already got one of her colleagues to ring and see if the couple could be interviewed over the phone - this was met with audiable contempt and a curt reply that they were "not able to come to the phone right now".

---

The Schofield Asylum was a grim, old Gothic building in a backstreet area of Pembury, but once Olivia had parked and gone inside it transformed into a bright, white beacon of modernity. Everything was spotlessly clean and the staff wore sharp, white uniforms that contrasted starkly with the bleak exterior of the building.

At reception, Olivia started to explain that she was Macario's niece and had driven down from Sheffield, when she felt a presence behind her. Glancing over her shoulder, she immediately recognised Dr Oram Liefhouse, author of Do Real Men Wear Masks? and Director of Operations.



He smiled, and Olivia instantly knew she'd been rumbled.

Dr Liefhouse tapped the side of his nose: "I can always ... sniff out a member of the press, Miss... er ..."

"March."

"Miss March, like a Flamemate?" he chuckled. "You wish to talk to the Macario's? You won't get much out of either of them, I'm afraid."

Liefhouse put his arm round Olivia's shoulders and guided her through a maze of corridors. He seemed oddly friendly, but she couldn't complain, and clearly interested in her interest in the family, but Olivia managed to duck that question until they came to a large closed door. Liefhouse opened a viewing panel and revealed Victor Macario curled up in a ball in the corner of a padded room, mumbling and gnawing at the walls.

"That's Victor; hasn't said a word since we brought him in. Let me introduce you to Gabriel, his wife." Across the corridor, in an identical padded cell, Gabriel was a wild-haired shock to Olivia; her fixed stare and blooded gums.

A burly male nurse had joined them and he stood at the back of the room with Liefhouse, while Olivia tried to engage Gabriel in conversation.

"When I awoke he was there, leaning over me with those bright eyes. Eyes of fire," the grey-haired woman cackled. "It was a presence, everywhere. He hated Victor. If we made him mad things would fly round the house. Plates. Have you seen plates fly? Flying saucers. Table moving ..."

Gabriel dissolved into tears and Dr Liefhouse suggested to Olivia that it was probably time to leave.

"I hope that was useful," he said as they walked out. "Don't want to see Schofield portrayed in a bad light in your esteemed publication."

---

It wasn't a long drive from Pembury to High Brooms. Olivia avoided the Industrial Estate and went through the back roads, past the infamous Mulberry Estate and the derelict Bunbury Flats, until she turned into the right road.

What immediately struck Olivia as she pulled up was the fact that Abacus' property was the only house left in the street; the area was pretty much redeveloped with a carpet of small offices and industrial units - off-white blocks, some with half-dismantled cars outside, others with security mesh over the windows and doors.

The old Macario house, with its overgrown front garden, is set back from the road and as she looks towards it, Olivia feels sudden wave of nausea or vertigo wash over her and for a moment, not only do the boarded-over front windows appear to be giant eyes, but the house itself almost rushes towards her as the surrounding gardens head in the other direction.

"Whoa! Coffee alert!" Olivia shakes her head and checks her watch. It's a good 30 minutes until Abacus is due to meet her there. She needs her caffeine fix and goes in search of a cafe.

---

"You're talking about the Barker house, ain'tcha?" rasped the old woman with cigarette stained fingers in the greasy sthingy where Olivia had ordered a mug of steaming coffee and started asking about the Macarios. Her hair was pulled back tight to reveal a vast collection of faux gold earrings and a prison tattoo, and she seemed to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders. "My ma used to tell me about the old perv who lived there donkey's years ago. Barker, his name was, William Barker. He belonged to that cult wot killed that rich kid in Pembury in the 80s."

Suddenly Olivia wondered if this "non-story" might have some legs after all. This woman must have been referring to the ritual murder of Milhouse Schwartz back in '88 at, what was to become, The Flame Mansion. Schwartz was like some child genius millionnaire and one night a gang - calling itself something like The Church of Midnight - broke in and murdered him. In the name of their Satanic master, or some such nonsense. Olivia couldn't remember.

"They used to meet in a hall round here," chuckled the woman. "I can point ya to it, if ya interested?"

What's next for Olivia? It's about 25 minutes until you are due to meet Abacus outside the house...

[Olivia March]

I'm not his bloody sister. I hate Abacus and I hate Scoop.

But Abacus is clearly not keen on going into the house... or is he just one of those people who hates having their picture taken?

---

Oram knows perfectly well who I am. We were at school together; and I took the publicity shots for Do Real Men Wear Masks; and I covered that Coffee Mornings for the Criminally Insane picture spread. I'm guessing he also knows perfectly well how tired that old Flamemates crack is. But he's a lot more interesting -- and attractive -- than your standard do-gooder. I'm not going to say I'm not flattered by the attention, because I am.

The Macarios are plainly barking, just like Abacus said. I kind of wish I hadn't been to see them. It's not really news, that. Crazy woman raves about flying saucers.

---

The house is an odd'un. Why hasn't he sold it off to a developer? Why hasn't a developer tried to buy it? Maybe I'll tell Abacus he should forget the whole ghost thing and sell it to a developer; then I won't have to write up this crappy story.

---

The cult's meeting hall? Ugh, if it's a choice between taking my coffee in its soggy polystyrene cup to investigate the ToCH Hall of Doom, and staying in this cafe which stinks of ancient breakfasts and cigarette smoke, I know where I'm going. Actually, this coffee is surprisingly good.

Barker... William Barker... I'm sure I remember something about him.. like a playground rhyme... or a game we used to play?

Barker Barker in the night
Catch you round the neck so tight...

Or was it something else? I might call the Sent and see if they can pull anything out about him. Usually I'd be told to do my own homework, but there's an overly-keen work experience boy who Scoop can get to check the morgue.

[The Director]

Olivia finished her cup of coffee as she processed everything that had gone on so far that day. The woman - Mrs Cash - insisted on bringing her a refill, and who was Olivia to turn down free coffee?

Mrs Cash sat down opposite Olivia and began to describe the route to the old hall, occasionally drawing freehand maps in tea stains on the table. Turns out the place wasn't as far away as she feared it might be.

By the time the woman had finished her instructions, Olivia had formulated a plan. Once she was outside she'd call the Sentinel on her mobile and get that workie boy to dig around in the morgue for anything on Barker, she'd take a wander round to the hall and then hopefully by the time she met up with Abacus back at the 'haunted house', the Sentinel would have called back with some useful tit-bits.

---

There was drizzle in the air, but that couldn't damped Olivia's high spirits. Feeling surprisingly cheerful - the news desk actually agreed to send the workie down to the morgue for her - she made her way through the back streets of Southborough. This wasn't an area of the city she knew well at all and was shocked by the deterioration in the condition of the buildings the further away one got from the main road.

Nevertheless she whistled the old playground rhyme to herself that had been going round and round in her head since the name "William Barker" had first cropped up in conversation, until she found herself standing in front of the derelict and abandoned hall.

All four walls were still standing, but the doors and windows were boarded up and covered in thick graffiti. Most of it was the usual tagging and gang-related scribbles you could find throughout Knight City, but a central symbol did stand out to Olivia as not the usual style of vandalism ... if there could be such a thing?

As she stood transfixed by the small, slightly luminous design, Olivia realised the drizzle was rapidly turning into a downpour and she could hear the rain hammering on some kind of tin roof inside the weathered and overgrown building.

Looking around, she saw the street was empty, so she poked around the outside of the hall until she found a backdoor that wasn't quite as secure as the front. With a bit of effort, Olivia managed to pry it open far enough, amidst the rubble, for her to squeeze in.

The inside was almost as barren as the outside. The sagging tin roof was channeling rain like a waterfall onto the rubble-strewn floor. Olivia took a few careful tip-toe steps onto the damp floor, careful picking her way through the detritus of old fast food wrappings that blown in somehow and fragments of wood and worn stone. It didn't look like anyone had been in here for ...

The floorboards squeaked interrupting her train of thought. She took a step back, then forward again. There was that squeak. Then she noticed that the rain water was running through the boards. Kneeling down in the wet, she pressed her eye to the gap between the boards and could just make out a room down below. Small shards of sunlight glinted off water - years of rainfall had obviously flooded this basement area - but there were shelves and cupboards down there.

Standing back up, Olivia looked around for the staircase to the basement ... and found it, buried under the collapsed roof that must been replaced soon after the hall was first abandoned by this alleged cult.

Glancing at her watch, she realised it was only five minutes until her 'date' with Abacus and it would take a good 15 minutes - walking at a fast pace - to get back to the Barker house.

"So, I'll be late, sue me," she muttered to herself as the rain continued to fall.

What now?

[Olivia March]

I'm going to be really late for Abacus if I go poking around in this basement... He's already unwilling to have his picture taken, and I don't want to give him any excuse to not turn up.

I'm not dressed for it; and I'm not happy about going down there alone -- what if it collapsed on top of me and I got stuck? I'm not even very happy about standing on this floor -- it feels really dodgy.

Imagine the headline --

Snapster pulled from ruined horror cult hall after three-day ordeal [/font]
'I WAS just doing my job,' whispers Sentinel photographer through parched lips, as brave firemen lift her from the rubble.

I'd never hear the end of it at the office, and I don't think I'd be able to show my face at the firestation -- or the police station -- ever again.

I'm going to come back and explore this later, once we've done the photos. I bet one of the reporters would be up for this. Or Philippe -- he's bound to find something he would like to photograph in all this.

[The Director]

Glancing at her watch once more, Olivia realised she had better 'get a wiggle on' as her dear old gran used to say. Bracing herself against the cold and rain she squeezed her way out of the back door of the derelict hall and headed back through the streets of Southborough, across the main road and into High Brooms - half-expecting to find hre car up on bricks where kids from the Mulberry Estate had taken a shine to its wheels.

As she made her way down Yew Tree Road, the main link between the neighbouring districts, her phone rang. It was that workie from The Sentinel and even though he said his name, Olivia instantly forgot it and replaced it with a mental image of his wingnut ears, shiny hair and acne. Then, in a flash, she saw Mrs Macario's thousand-yard stare again - looking right through her and she snapped back to reality.

"There wasn't much," he was saying before Olivia could focus on his slightly annoying voice - it reminded her too much of the squeaky floorboards back at the hall. "Just one mention of a William Barker in dispute with his neighbours in '81. No exact address given, but I reckon it's your man. Apparently they had the idea that he wanted to be buried in his cellar 'for his religious reasons'. He refused to discuss it. The council were going to investigate. There's no follow-up story."

"Typical," Olivia muttered. "Have you ..."

"I've put in a call to the council's press office," the workie said, with obvious pride in his voice. "But they haven't got back to me yet."

Olivia thanked him and clicked the phone shut as she turned the corner in the Barker house road and saw not only was her car still in one piece, but Mr Abacus was waiting in the road outside the dread house, sheltering under an umbrella and looking decided p***ed-off!

She gave him a friendly wave as she got her camera out the boot of the car.



Olivia apologised and thanked him for waiting, but didn't go into any explanations as to why she was late, reasoning that if he was elaborating this whole 'haunting' thing for the sake of cheap publicity, that would just be more fuel for his fire.

Glancing past Abacus momentarily at the rundown house, Olivia was again knocked by that feeling of caffeine-withdrawl vertigo and had to steady herself on the fence.

"Hey, doll, are you okay?" Abacus moved to put a hand on her shoulder, but Olivia shook it off.

"Let's look round your 'haunted house'," she snapped. "And get some pictures."

Abacus fished a screwed-up piece of paper out of his pocket and spread it out for Olivia to see. Clearly it was a rough drawing of the internal lay-out of the house.



"I did this for the tenants, see," Abacus said by way of explanation, then, with rain splattering the document, he used his podgy finger to point out various rooms.

"These upper floor rooms are the bedrooms and this little thing at the end of the corridor is the bathroom, this room here," he jabbed at bedroom three, "that I've called three, this is the one where most of the trouble's been. Downstairs, we've got the living room, dining room and kitchen, see, and across the hall from them are a couple of storage rooms, kinda like walk-in cupboards, and a little hallway to the back garden - that's also got a number three on it. It's kinda under the stairs really, see."

He was really drawing this whole ordeal out - Olvia got the distinct impression he was putting off actually going into the house as long as possible; which would have been fine except for the rain.

"And what about these stairs?" asked Olivia, pointing at the staircase clearly marked next to the kitchen.

"Oh, they just go down to the cellar, sister, just a load of old junk down there. Not even sure if the Macario's even used it - just kept it locked, I guess."

What's Olivia's plan for exploring the old house? Where does she want to get her pictures?

[Olivia March]

Let's get this over with. I need more coffee. I wonder if there's a kettle in there? Even some inst would help.

We're going for Bedroom 3 first, obviously, as that seems to be the place where it all happens.

But I'm intrigued by the cellar -- probably get some great atmosphere shots. Specially if there's some kind of grave down there. It's unbelieveable some of the stuff you discover in this job. I wonder if I can do the lighting so I get some uh... special effects? That'd give them a shock back at the office. Stir up dust a bit and it'd look like the place is full of weird orbs. They probably wouldn't print it, but it'd be worth it for the comedy value.

'Right-o, Mr A. Do you mind if we go in out of the rain -- it's not going to do my camera any good.'

[The Director]

Olivia sighed - the caffeine withdrawal was hitting her particularly bad today. Sometimes this job really got to her - well, The Sentinel's rather eccentric editorial policy anyway. But, to be fair, it had allowed Jack to pursue the sort of investigative journalism he loved and "Elvis Came To Visit Me - From Outer Space", "My Girlfriend's Dog Is A Werewolf" and "UFO Found In Fridge" helped pay her bills ... and keep her sane while she hunted for Jack.

Abacus stepped out the way, handing Olivia the front door key as she walked past.

The door swung open easily and Olivia immediately noticed the column of four bolts that had been screwed into the backside of the door. They were obviously newer than the old Yale lock.

The long hall, which ran the length of the house was musty and brown, wallpaper peeled off the walls and dust danced in the air, disturbed by the open door. There were three doors to her left and three on the right and a flight of stairs at the end - leading up to the bedroom.

She could hear Abacus' breathing getting nervous as she entered - and he followed close behind. Ignoring the ground floor rooms, Olivia confidently strode down the hall and started up the stairs.

Abacus closed the front door behind him and Olivia was sure the house sighed audibly and maybe even shifted a bit - but that may have been a trick of the light. She found a old toggle switch on the wall, but - surprise, surprise - no matter how many times she flicked it up and down no lights came on. Standing there, she could make out the constant, irritating, slow drip of a leaky tap coming from upstairs.

"Is there a kettle in here?" she asked, turning to make Abacus was still following. "Seriously I could do with a cup of coffee - even some inst would help!"

"Er ... let me have a look," Abacus, at the bottom of the stairs, seemed momentarily relieved to have an excuse not to go up the stairs. He stepped back and pushed open the kitchen door. Olivia could see in from where she was.

It all looked very conventional - if slightly dated. There was a fridge (no UFOs though, she smirked), cooker, washing up basin and some shelves with dusty cans on. Although she couldn't make out details - and probably didn't want to - it also all looked rather dirty; old crumbs of food, kernels of rice and pasta, and some kind of small, black berry or sultana.

"Oh crap!" Abacus cried, stepping backwards. "There's mouse crap all over the place, doll. I don't think you'll wanting anything from in here..." He paused, an idea grinding through his brain. "Although, I do seem to recall the Macario's did make their own wine. Do you want me to see if I can find us a bottle?"

Olivia shook her head - no coffee! Her clenched fist was making her nails dig into the palm of her hand and she thought for a moment it might actually draw blood.

"Come on," she snapped, then regained her composure. "Let's go upstairs and check out the supposedly haunted bedroom."

"Do you say that to all the guys, sister, or am I your special friend?" The slime-ball had developed a nervous kind of bravado that made him even more repugnant to Olivia.

---

The narrow, bare wooden staircase came out into a narrow hall with a trio of curtained windows on the right and the doors to the bedrooms on the left. Immediately besides Olivia the door to the small bathroom stood open - the Macario's towels and washcloths still hung in there and a pool of brackish water had collected in the bath tub, fed by the dripping tap she had heard from downstairs.

Right then, Olivia told herself, taking a deep breath and pushing open the first bedroom door.

It was bare, save for a bed frame and a dresser, whose drawers were partially open showing it to be seemingly empty.

Olivia's shoulders sagged. It was rather an anticlimax. But when she didn't run out screaming Abacus joined her in the room - he was back to his old, nervous, twitchy self again and immediately made for the window, through which the overgrown back garden was visible.

Olivia unslung her camera.

"Okay then, Mr A, let's get you by the window to start with. Just a few test shots."

Abacus stepped to one side and tried to adopt a natural pose, but was clearly uncomfortable having his picture taken. Marcus, at least, could have got a natural smile out of him, Olivia thought ... then she heard the scratching. Something was scratching at the window and now rattling the glass.

"What the ...?"

Abacus stepped back - the colour having drained completely from his face because they could both see there was nothing outside the window.

It was at that moment that Olivia realised both that she was standing in a pool of blood - that was bubbling up through the floor and hadn't been there a moment ago - and that the bed had started to tip from side-to-side, smacking the floorboards with a ghastly clanking thump ... and was increasing in violence!

Phew! It's all kicking off ... what is Olivia going to do now? Is this all an elaborate scam or something more sinister? Will she ever get another cup of coffee?

[Olivia March]

'Mr Abacus, this is amazing! You're gonna make a fortune. You had me going there a moment with whatever it was at the window...

'Mind if I take a few shots from the door? That's it, hold that look.'

Scoop is going to love this. We'll run a few months of 'House of Horror' stories and then expose the whole thing as a fake. Gotta love this job.

[The Director]

Olivia shook her head in disbelief, a smirk catching the corner of her lips as she readied her camera for some great snaps - she really had to find out how he had set this all up, because, as it was, she couldn't see any of the wires or rigging.

"Mr Abacus, this is amazing! You're gonna make a fortune," she was having to raise her voice as the din was getting louder, the shaking bed going into overdrive. "You had me going there for a moment with whatever it was at the window..."

Abacus waved his hand frenetically in front of his face and mouthed something that Olivia couldn't quite make out - but was almost certainly obscenities.

He was moving slowly towards her, as she backed out under the door frame to get the perfect picture.

"Mind if I take a few shots from the door? That's it, hold that look."

Suddenly the metal bedframe rocketed forward and smashed into Abacus's legs, pinning them against the wall; his head whiplashing back against the glass of the window. Then before Olivia could react (Was this really all just for her benefit? If it was Abacus didn't seem to be enjoying it that much!) the bed flew backwards, bounced off the back wall beside her, sending chippings of paint spraying into Olivia's face, then hurtled back into Abacus - driving him through the plateglass with an almighty scream. He disappeared from view as the bed came to rest on the floorboards in front of the window.

Everything was quiet.

What now?