Into the Light

Into the Light

By Kevin Pearson

Copyright 2013 - 2018 Kevin Pearson

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Acknowledgments

Many thanks to Katarzyna for Lenora’s map and enchanting painting of Lilac Cottage, Devon. It looks so peaceful, I may move in soon! To get in touch with Katarzyna regarding possible art projects, please contact her directly by email.

Katarzyna Waszewska-Adamowska

LABARTE

Email: pracownia.labarte@ gmail.com

For mum, hope you enjoy it.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

The Spiritual Investigators Supplement

Lenora Summer 2009

Into The Light

Book 1of 3

Chapter 1

Rural Shropshire, England. Such a long, hot summer’s day saw Abbeyfield road’s residents flat out under every cooling shade, lazily sipping icy drinks. Happy young children played relaxing games in golden sand pits, as playmates tipped ice into paddling pools to cool them briefly in the great heat.

Families of birds lined rooftops, stretching shimmering wings like angels, chirping quiet songs in overhanging trees. Chinking bottles were laid outside for the milkman, droning, buzzy fans turned slowly in the thick, muggy air, a ball was lazily thrown against a garage door, and a whining lawnmower idled sluggishly in the distance.

One man oiled his gate, lest it swing open tonight, needlessly disturbing neighbours. Outside number 20, a dog’s loud, impatient bark at an impertinent cat quickly morphed to a dry, rasping cough.

A misty haze grew amidst jet black tarmac, dissolving bright, colourful rainbows into the steamy atmosphere. Fresh green leaves sprang restlessly to their feet along the baking road, fuelled by a tiny whirlwind mysteriously spinning dirt to one side, leaving a neat line along the street, then whirling into the deep blue sky at the post box, leaving a wizened old man tottering along unsteadily in her wake. He neatly placed all dirt into a big black bag slung casually over a shoulder.

Just across the road, gleaming sheets billowed in the breeze, flapping tiny wings in vain attempts to escape their captors. Pyjamas unjustly imprisoned between waved bulging arms to and fro, as warm gusts breathed life into them for a few funny seconds.

Soon even the sun drifted off to sleep, sheltering amongst beautiful wispy clouds, allowing her long orange fingers to retreat across darkening blue sky.

At number 16, Pollyanna Fitzgerald gazed out at the strange, funny sights, wondering. Just what was that whirlwind all about?! It had spun along the street once a week this summer, yet no one else seemed to notice.

Today had been long, but terribly exciting for such a curious and clever girl. Today, July 24th 2009 was Polly’s tenth birthday. Of course every child’s birthday is special, but this one was doubly so for Polly, who’d been planning it for a very long time.

Mum asked what Pollyanna wanted to do when she grew up. Doctor, judge or ballerina? No, Pollyanna only wanted to be an investigator. Nothing else would possibly do!

A police investigator, dear?

No, investigating ghosts, rather than criminals, mum. Mrs Peters is a spiritual expert and has promised to train me up. Helping lost spirits move on and exploring the invisible spiritual world sounds like such fun. She says money doesn’t buy happiness, a person’s peace of mind is priceless, and in order to get really good at something, it’s best to start as young as possible. Then you don’t have to constantly play catch up with competitors when older.

Dad happily agreed with the logic, guessing there was an extra secret reason to Polly’s choice, which she hadn’t shared yet.

Oh, I see, mum nodded, though she didn’t quite then as her poor stomach was playing cruel tricks again.

I’ve also learnt people respond more favourably to the slightly older person. Age seems to suggest a certain level of responsibility, inspiring confidence in prospective clientele. Being ten now affords me a distinct advantage in this respect. Meeting a poltergeist is my ultimate goal.

My word Polly, where do you learn all these words? gasped mum, always amazed at her large vocabulary.

I try to read at least one book a week. Mrs Peters says it keeps the brain young, fresh and ready for action.

Well she’d certainly know. Nearly ninety two now you know, mum mused, quickly adding, Though she always said her bodies old, not her mind.

Pollyanna nodded favourably and dad winked in tune.

For the next thirty minutes Pollyanna sat entranced by Doctor Who. Mum smiled, thinking what a tremendously good influence Mrs Peters had been for Polly. She thought back, remembering meeting the wonderful lady that beautiful summer’s day four years earlier, when they’d arrived to view her house.

A tall, thin woman with flowing grey hair tied neatly in a bun - a remarkably kind face. Rare sparkling eyes hid behind thin, half moon spectacles, immediately instilling a strong sense of trust and reliability. George had thought so too, scratching his thick brown hair, wondering how to shake the nagging guilty feeling at buying a house so obviously loved if the owner really didn’t want to leave.

That’s perfectly alright dear, Mrs Peters had piped up, My daughters have pestered me to move for over a year. Finally I admit I can’t quite cope as well as I used to. Arthritis you see? she said, holding her back as if to confirm it. It was like she’d read his mind George admitted later.

Now, come closer and let me have a good look at you two. Ah, quite a young couple. Children? she inquired hopefully, peering down her glasses.

Yes, we’ve a four year old daughter reading in the car.

Reading at four? My, you two have a special one there don’t you? she cried, her lively face lighting up tiny fleeting shadows living in the hallway. At that moment Pollyanna burst through the door brandishing a thick book, announcing it finished. Pollyanna flew up to Mrs Peters, giving her a great big hug. Quite surprising Mum had thought. Polly had always been an affectionate child, though never one to take to strangers so quickly.

The kind lady had proudly shown off her prized collection of vintage hats, one for every day of the week plus spares, then round her immaculately kept home. Everything was spotless and looked brand new, even the antique furniture.

A clean home is a happy one, Mrs Peters declared, seeing mum admiring the beautifully polished pieces.

It certainly seems very cosy, mum said, amazed at not seeing a speck of dust.

See, I told you so! Mrs Peters crowed in delight, admitting she helped old Tom at the end house keep the road clean every week too. When they arrived back in the kitchen for tea and biscuits, they sat chatting like old friends.

I can tell you’re interested, Mrs Peters said, throwing them an enormous warm, knowing smile. I always look after my friends, she added mysteriously.

The Fitzgerald’s had agreed to buy her home instantly.

Good, you shall have her at a very reasonable price. I wouldn’t dream of selling to anyone else. You are the first family I know I can truly trust to look after her treasures, she whispered, smiling wonderfully again, sounding convinced the house was alive. Mum had wondered if the charming lady had also given her home a name. Mrs Peters leaned forward merrily, You’ve made a lady most relieved that her house will be alive again with children’s adorable giggles.

8 pm and Doctor Who’s screeching music broke mum out of her happy memories. Pollyanna stood up, proudly announcing that five minutes ago she officially turned ten. So bright and early tomorrow morning she’d be opening a junior division of her own investigation agency called: ‘Pollyanna’s Detection Service’ or ‘PADS’ for short.

Because customers may wish to keep any suspected haunting quiet, the PADS name would assure them that secrecy was guaranteed and that work would be carried out silently and efficiently. Not only that, PADS was a clever reference to Meg, her beautiful black and white puppy who was keen to become a full member, though still only six months old. Mrs Peters had studied the paranormal world for fifty years now, and had kindly promised to help her find her feet. In the meantime she’d keep her fingers crossed for an interesting first client, who could be certain of complete discretion.

That’ll be nice dear, mum said absently, wondering where she’d left her stomach pills. Then the lively little girl stated she was off to bed early, because tomorrow she expected to be inundated with calls for help, for which only a fully refreshed mind would suffice. Waving happily at mum and dad, she dashed upstairs, leaving a blonde blur.

Chapter 2

The very next day, the moment sun slowly rose far off on the horizon, Pollyanna knocked loudly on her parent’s bedroom door, shouting for dad. Innocent books dropped helplessly to the floor as dad’s droopy brown eyes peered round the door. Is our house burning down, Polly?

"I should hope not, dad. Today’s the day I start looking for my very first client, Pollyanna exclaimed, jumping up and down, Meg’s waiting downstairs and Mrs Peters is here already."

She finally got my letter. She may stay for a few days, it’s complicated, it all depends on her friends. Quick dad. The opening ceremony is an important time for PADS, you promised to help.

I’ll be right down then my pretty little lily pad!

See you this afternoon Polly! mum called weakly.

Five minutes later smiling, tired dad tumbled downstairs, becoming entangled in streamers and tinsel. Dad finally broke free to the wide open front door, strung with three pink ribbons blowing gently in the warm morning breeze. Meg sat there patiently. Pollyanna jumped up and down with excitement. Mrs Peters stood in the corner, so not to take the limelight away from the excited little girl.

PADS chose you as our master of ceremonies, dad! Pollyanna announced, granting him a long congratulatory hug and a shiny gold medal, thrusting safety scissors into his hands.

Pollyanna explained each ribbon represented a PADS business member. Mrs Peters was the director at the top. She was lucky enough to be manager. Meg, bless her, was at the bottom just now due to age, but they’d treat her very well. All would receive equal pay.

Dad happily joined the fun. It’s very nice to see you again, Mrs Peters, he said, doing his solemn duty.

As the final ribbon lay helplessly in tatters, everyone ran about the hallway shouting hoorah, bumping into each other. Mum clapped from atop the stairs.

After celebrations cooled Meg collected all soft coloured ribbon, stashing it safely alongside her other squashy treasures in the cupboard under the stairs. Dad said Uncle Roy rang late last night in a terrible state, complaining of strange, scary noises and oddly flickering lights. Finally he’d plucked up the courage to ask dad for help with the electrics.

Our first case, dad! Quick, we must rush down there while evidence is still fresh. Mrs Peters always says it’s amazing how quickly situations can change in the cold light of day.

I don’t know if I can possibly allow that, dad said glumly, then smiling mischievously. Alright, everyone into the car in ten minutes.

At eight am that warm Saturday morning, the happy party set off on an adventure. As the car left the road Pollyanna became unusually quiet, thinking how lucky she was to have a dad who’d gladly give up spare time helping a daughter live her dreams.

Chapter 3

The journey would be one hour’s drive deep into the countryside, so dad handed out sandwiches. Mrs Peters saved hers for later. Pollyanna opened a poltergeist survival guide prepared over the last year. Mrs Peters had been a great help, loving discussing ghosts on the phone. PADS were so engrossed in cunning plans, the trip whizzed by. Only tyres crunching over thick gravel stirred their heads to Pemberton Manor where Uncle Roy was gardener.

PADS gasped at the vast manor standing proudly before them. High stone walls invited a maze of green vines to snake skywards, where they skilfully skirted lattice windows. Many reached crumbling chimney pots, wrapping round two weird stone golems living high above. A large crow family had moved in between these odd creatures, carelessly leaving sticks smothered with black, gooey mud to tumble down the roof, spill out of slimy gutters, and pile up in messy heaps on the sprawling lawn far below.

PADS burst out the car, bracing in fresh morning air. Mrs Peters saw a light on upstairs, rushing through the manor’s giant front door. Pollyanna was astonished how fast the elderly lady ran. Er, yeah, amazing at her age, dad agreed, biting his lip, remembering Mrs Peters was old, not disabled.

Meanwhile, Meg had eaten her massive sandwich and was wobbling drunkenly round the drive. Pollyanna grabbed her PADS suitcase, charging into the manor, bumping into Uncle Roy. How may we help you, sir? As our first client we guarantee complete confidence and satisfaction.

Roy was a tad worried and confused. Dad promised to explain later, winking at the friendly bearded giant, who mumbled his odd tale.

Aunt Mabel and Uncle Roy were house sitting for the Pembertons’ who’d gone on a fortnights holiday. They’d slept in a second floor room overlooking the front drive, attracted by its warmth, charming decoration and lavish furnishings. Both enjoyed an amazing sleep the first night, helped by the wonderfully soft mattress and luxurious duvets, which aunt said were perfect for snuggling into.

On the second night Mabel was woken a few times by an odd tapping, but thought it just part of a crazy dream. Roy slept through it all, as it would take a rampaging elephant to wake him.

The third night passed exactly the same as the second, and again with the fourth, only each time sounds grew slightly louder. By the fifth night Mabel was feeling very uncomfortable, sensing someone watching her lie wearily in bed. The unnerving sensation didn’t seem evil, more curiosity, though she couldn’t be sure - she wasn’t used to such strange feelings. Roy left the bedside lamp on, thinking Mabel had been working too hard lately.

That night Roy lay awake to explore the mystery, though not because he suspected the supernatural. Why, he was far too old for such childish fancies! No, he just wanted to find out what was making the strange noises - probably a nocturnal animal or natural sound from a terribly old house. Armed with an everyday explanation, he’d put Mabel’s