ANGRY SPIRIT PART 3 Chapter One

Nathan had spent one night shy of a full week on the painfully short couch in the lounge of Miranda’s modest two bed semi. Even the stiffness in his joints, the cramp in his legs and the agonizing kink in his neck were by far preferential to the tortures he had endured in his own home, relentlessly besieged by the merciless attentions of Hell bound entities and angry spirits whose identity he strived daily to wipe from his memory, alas with little success.

The sleep he managed was short and disturbed, yet its benefits were clear and welcome. Day by day his desperate depression ebbed away, eventually his bedraggled demeanour returned to one of confidence, his once familiar sense of humor began to bite away at the his overwhelming sense of anguish and pessimism.
A life of reassuring normality had at last returned, but, he was under no illusion. At the back of his mind, Nathan knew that he would eventually step back into the haunting reality that was his fate. His demons had to be faced and defeated, regardless of his fear and reluctance.
When midday arrived and Miranda bid farewell to the aging, well-to-do widow who had requested an urgent séance to attempt contact with her recently deceased husband. The young medium announced the news he had been dreading, since his arrival.

It was time to embark on the fateful journey to Suffolk and visit the lavish country house where that first terrible séance had taken place.
One by one Nathan began to unleash a steady stream of empty excuses, each one falling woefully short of convincing himself, let alone Miranda.
There’s no point in trying to prolong this any longer," Miranda began, a tear of inevitability in her eyes. "I wish to God there was another way of solving this whole mess, but, you know as well as I do, that we have no choice. It has to be done, regardless of what the consequences may be."
"Exactly... What if this plan of yours goes pair shaped? What happens if we fail?"
"Don’t even go there, Nathan." Miranda replied, in an almost whisper. "Believe me failure is not an option. If anything goes, even slightly goes wrong. Then quite literally Nathan may God save your soul!"

"That’s the bit that scares me!" Nathan forced a far from convincing smile. "There’s been quite a worrying lack of communication between myself and the Good Lord over the years … believe me!"
Responding with her own attempt at a fake smile, Miranda concluded any further debate by turning to leave the room, before adding; "Well there’s no turning back for either of us now. We leave for Suffolk within the next hour, so, I suggest you get a few things together."
Although he had known the moment would arrive one day and had resigned himself to the sad fact that there could be no alternative, Nathan still succumbed to the numbing sensation of cold fear on hearing the words.

It was three fifteen when Miranda steered the car through the enormous gates and starred with a mix of relief, knowing that their long uncomfortable car journey was concluded, but racked by the inevitable, intense fear with the knowledge that they about to embark on a more sinister journey, the consequences of which neither of them dare allow themselves to try and comprehend.
For a few moments they sat there in silence, taking in the grandness of the massive house at the end of the tree lined driveway before them. The pristine tarmac surface, fingered out ahead, its path not deviating from near perfect straightness along its entirety.
"Are you sure this is the right place?" Nathan asked, finally breaking the silence.
"I’m positive!"
"But it’s a bloody mansion!"

"Yes it is a mansion. Well spotted. This is Lepton Hall" Miranda’s reply, though intended as a humorous quip to lighten the obvious tension, fell miserably on deaf ears.
"Shouldn’t we phone and make sure that someone is at home first?"
"Relax Nathan. I phoned Lady Ashton this morning and told her that we’d be here by three o’clock." She paused and passed a glance towards the dashboard clock. "We’re late. It’s already three thirty. So, let’s not keep her waiting any longer."
"No! Wait!" Nathan gasped.
"Now what"?

With a shaky hand, Nathan pulled a miniature bottle of scotch from the inside pocket of his jacket, and nervously struggled to unscrew the cap, before raising it to his parched lips and downing the contents in one throat singing gulp.
"Feel better now?" Miranda asked her irritation obvious.
Attempting to stifle his choking couch, he just about managed to voice his next request; "Can we have a fag first?"
"For goodness sake, Nathan, you’re …"
"Yeah I know. I’m pathetic. But I still need a fag, alright?"
"We’re late as it is." She snapped her irritation now clearly manifested into full-blown anger. "Those things will kill you, you know!"

Apparently un-phased by Miranda’s response, Nathan threw the empty bottle into the glove box and grappled with an unopened packet of twenty.
Only after taking a deep calming lung full of air was he able to steady his shaking hand long enough to precariously aim his lighter towards the end of the cigarette to light it.
Savoring the first biting mouthful of smoke, the effect was instant and gratifying. The harsh bite passed along his throat and concluded with a satisfying burning sensation as it began to pollute the tender fibres within his lungs.
By the time he repeated the process and took another hurried drag, a faint grin curled his lips, as the angry panic began to subside,
"Maybe these things will kill me," He admitted, wryly. "But, considering where we’re going, I would consider that to be something of an advantage. Wouldn’t you?"

Miranda couldn’t help but appreciate the humour of his reply, she too responded with instinctive laughter;
"You’re impossible, Nathan. Can we get going now?"
Even Miranda’s confidence began to wane, as she drove forward, the house appearing more intimidating the closer they got to it.
"Do you think we should go to the main entrance, or round to the back door?" she asked. Her voice suddenly showed signs of nervousness, a fact that Nathan found strangely comforting.
"Ah, so even the unshakable Mystic Miranda is beginning to feel the strain?"
"Oh, shut up!"
"Well, I think we should go straight for the main entrance. After all, we are guests here, not servants."

When the driveway ended and the cars tyres crunched their way onto gravel, signaling that they had at last emerged onto the expansive courtyard area that spanned from the impressive façade of the old house, Miranda noticed the figure of a young, fashionably dressed woman standing aloft a flight of steps, leading to the enormous main double doors.
"That can’t be Lady Ashton, surely," she gasped in amazement. "She looks very young. Maybe she’s one of the maids?"
Nathan was forced to look twice to allay his surprise. "I wouldn’t think she is a maid. Not dressed like that!"

Before the car had come to a halt, the young woman had descended the step and stood ready to greet them with a warm smile and hesitant wave of her right hand in a welcoming gesture. To which Miranda replied in kind.
Nathan instantly felt the effects the long journey when he emerged slowly and stiffly from the car. He noted with some relief that the woman was on a swift course towards Miranda, her arm outstretched to offer a warm and eager welcome. This allowed him a brief moment to stretch his aching body in a powerful backward arch, which he hoped would ease the painful tension in his muscles.
"Lady Ashton?" Miranda called, when their apparent hostess was a few steps short of their hands meeting.
"Yes. But, please do call me, Alice ..."

Nathan cut short his impromptu stretching exercise upon hearing the name Alice. "Your name is, Alice?" the words left his lips in astonished gasp.
"Yes!" she replied, herself, more than a little taken aback by Nathan’s strange response.
"I know it’s not the stereotypical name one might associate with a title, but yes, my name is Alice."
"No. I didn’t mean … It’s just that …"
Embarrassed by her companions stuttering response, Miranda made a hasty attempt to divert attention away from it;
"I do apologize for being so late."
"Oh, don’t be silly. I know what the traffic can be like when you leave the motor, especially at this time of day. Actually I’m quite impressed that you arrived here by now."

"I’d forgotten just how grand Lepton Hall looks," Miranda added, scanning her gaze from left to right along the buildings impressive frontage.
"Don’t let your first impressions fool you. I can assure you this draughty old pile is not as grand as it looks. Now lets get inside. You must be absolutely parched and starving after your long drive."
The two women turned and began walking towards the doorway, continuing in conversation as they went.
"I’ll bring the luggage in then, shall I?" Nathan mumbled somewhat indignantly.
Lady Alice cast an amused glance over her shoulder, as her brisk step remained unaltered; "Don’t worry about your things; I’ll have Godfrey take them to your room." She called back.

"Of course … silly me!" he again mumbled to himself. "I should have known there would be a ‘poor old Godfrey, waiting in the wings to fetch and carry for her ladyship’s guests." He toyed with the image of an archaic figure, doddering about the place, painfully stooped over with a curved spine, brought about by decades of lugging heavy suitcases and trunks. Offering no response other than a begrudging, yet courteous reply of, "Yes, ma Lady. Right away, ma Lady!"
Needless to say, he was amazed when a man, not many years older than himself emerged from the old house.
"Come on, Nathan! Hurry up!" Miranda called, before disappearing through the enormous doorway.