Page 16 of Murder Most Haunted
[Sound effect: echoing footsteps in a large, empty hall]
Noah:Atherton Hall, with its grand architecture and mysterious aura, holds many secrets within its walls. One of the most intriguing is its communal bathing room, a place steeped in tradition, craftsmanship and, perhaps, lingering spirits.
[Sound effect: muted voice whispering and taps running]
Anyone who has investigated the paranormal or followed my shows for a length of time will be familiar with the equipment that I am now holding. In this business, when you can’t predict events, it’s critical to be prepared. Which is why, before I even enter the bathing rooms, I have made sure my spectral thermometer is primed, ready to record any sudden drop in ambient temperature. Listeners will know these as ‘cold spots’, and also that my electromagnetic reader is already monitoring any unexplained spikes in energy. So, now that I’m ready, let’s take a look together around the famous Atherton Bathing Room.
[Sound effect: footsteps and door opening]
Wow! As soon as you enter the room, you are accosted by three intricately carved, handmade tin baths, seated side by side, a testament to the extraordinary local craftsmanship of the time. And these baths are not your common metal scrubbers. They were designed by Charles Atherton himself, a man deeply connected to his land and its resources. The tin for these baths was mined right on the estate, forging a direct link between the natural world and the comforts of home.
This room was a sanctuary reserved strictly for the men of the house. It was a place where they could unwind after a gruelling day overseeing the mine, and perhaps discuss matters best kept away from the rest of the household.
But what makes this room truly fascinating is the ghostly apparitions. Some say they have heard the echoing footsteps of Charles Atherton and his sons, or the faint sloshing of water long after the baths have been emptied. Some have even—
[A thud]
Wait! Did you hear that?
[Silence]
Is it really possible that the spirits of the Atherton men still linger here?
[Beeping sound]
Can you hear it? The spectral thermometer’s going off. It’s a... a cold spot. Yeah, absolutely – no doubt. The chill has just taken over, like, completely enveloped me, from out of nowhere... no thermal explanation that I can see... but yeah, I’m definitely much, much colder.
[Beeping]
That’s registered a drop of around five degrees Fahrenheit. I think that’s a new record for us. Something has happened in this room and I’d go as far as to say something evil. This paranormal detective is willing to bet his life on it.
[Music swells, then fades out]
Chapter8
Despite her recently made-up face, Midge was keen to wash before supper and decided upon the communal bathing room rather than her own washing quarters, which housed only a miniscule shower cabinet. She had a deep-rooted distrust of showers. At least in a bath, one could hide one’s imperfections with the occasional soapsud – showers, with all of their unrelenting reflections and power jets, were for life’s thrill-seekers and exhibitionists.
In the middle of the floor were three tin baths that she recognized from the painting. Each was raised on four clawed legs and had ornate metalwork winding around the edging, reaching a pinnacle with the Atherton crest of arms at the headrests. Choosing the bath nearest to the door, Midge reached over to turn on the hot water tap before straightening up to admire the engraving while the room gradually filled with steam.
Stepping behind the sturdy wooden changing screen, despite being the only person in the room, she dropped her robe before moving out and lowering herself cautiously into the water. She allowed herself to sink backwards, enjoying the sensation of heat on her stiff knee. It was a large bath and it must have taken the maids a long time couriering the water backwards and forwards from the fireplace before more modern plumbing was installed. What kind of job would that have been for a young girl? In forced proximity to her naked, male masters. Midge shuddered and sank lower, allowing the water to lap at her ears, distorting the noise around her. She could just about make out the chiming of thelarge grandfather clock outside in the hallway: 7 p.m. Another eighteen hours until Bridie’s chemotherapy appointment. Midge hoped that she’d remember to take the socks that she had crocheted her to keep her feet warm.
In the time that she had been under the water, the room had filled with so much steam and the water was so hot, her head had started to swim. Whether it was the vapour or the heat, Midge, who could barely see across the room, began to hear a ringing noise in her ears. She carefully levered herself out of the bath and padded across the floor, unsteady without her cane, hoping to open the window and release some of the steam. Moving blindly in the cloud, she felt a cold sensation on her skin, like tiny fingers pulling at her face. She panicked, and, suddenly feeling short of breath, she reached out for the sash window and yanked it down with shaking hands. She gulped in the rush of cold air while the suffocating steam poured out through the gap. As the ringing in her ears subsided, she looked out on to the driveway, calming her breathing. Just below her, Harold suddenly appeared from the front door, walking across the snow towards the coach, a shovel in his hand glinting in the moonlight. His footprints broke the clear, smooth surface, leaving behind dark smudges from the hall lighting.
Midge stared.
Harold’s tracks over to the coach weren’t the only prints in the snow. Directly to her left was another set, concentrated in a circle as if someone had been standing in the same area for a long period of time. Midge frowned as she tried to mentally picture the house layout. The footprints appeared to be outside the library.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a wolf whistle from below. It was Harold, giving her a cheery wave from where he stood beside the coach. To her horror, Midge realized she was still dripping wet and very much naked. Twisting round in alarm, she sidestepped away from the window. Cautiously moving back over thetiles and taking care not to slip, she reached out for the dressing gown. When she straightened up, she could see all the way across the room to the mirror, now that the steam had dispersed. Her hand froze on the robe.
Written in the condensation on the glass were the words,
I KNOW WHAT YOU DID.
Chapter9
‘Ms McGowan... are you in there?’
Noah’s voice called through the door, pulling Midge’s eyes away from the mirror.
