It was only now she realised it might lead to a grave.
― Anthony Horowitz
Gail and I both felt it since the moment the storm began―an oppressive heaviness weighing down upon everyone in the house.
We tried to relieve the gloomy atmosphere with candles and a brightly burning fire but much as we tried, our party spirit faltered and petered out much like the candles that burned down in their sconces and gave only a feeble light.
We were exhausted and Greg was the first to fall asleep, followed by Gail until there was only Poppy and I left awake staring into the fireplace flames.
Poppy spoke to me in drowsy tones as if the warmth of the fire and the steady drum of the rain outside had lulled her into a lethargy.
"I really appreciate all of you staying and trying to keep me company. You are real friends."
"It was an opportunity for us all to get to spend time together. It reminds me of a time when I was trapped in a streetcar during a fierce lightning storm. The experience caused all of us to bond."
"Danger does that, doesn't it?" she whispered.
I had to ask about her melancholy.
"Do you feel vulnerable alone in this house, Poppy? Do you sometimes feel you're in danger?"
She shook her head. "No, nothing like that. I actually feel protected but yes, a bit depresse at times. It reminds me of Tennyson's poem, The Lady of Shallot. Do you know it?"
"I do," I smiled, "but it's a haunting tale where the Lady is kept from looking toward Camelot with its bustling life and instead is held in thrall by gazing into a magic mirror."
She nodded and stared off into space as if picturing her own exquisite tapestries that kept her enthralled.
"I suppose you think this house holds me in a spell. Am I right?"
"I do think it is distracting you from living your life outside its walls, but why I'm not sure."
"You asked me why I bought this place and I wasn't open with you. I bought it because it reminded me of Andre, my fiancé, who died in a rafting accident. I don't know why the house would resonate with me."
"Where did this rafting accident happen?" I asked.
"It happened nearby, in Grindstone Creek, one spring after a heavy rain. Andre and his friends thought it would be an adventure to raft down the creek while the water was high to discover where it might lead. But Andre's raft got trapped in a bend in the creek where there were overhanging trees and he fell in and got trapped by vines beneath the water. He couldn't break free because of the current."
I whispered solemnly, "I think I understand now why you were drawn to this house."
Poppy stared at me in astonishment. "You know why I chose this house?"
I nodded. "While Gail and I were exploring the ravine your neighbour on the opposite bank explained to us that the blackened cross we found there was erected as a memorial to a young man who had died there centuries ago when the gully was a tributary of Grindstone Creek. It has since dried up except during times of rain when the water rises up and forms a damp spot in your basement."
"That's incredible," she said, her eyes huge with wonder.
"Apparently the young man died the same way your fiancé did, by getting tangled up in underwater branches and vines."
Poppy began to tremble as she tried to come to terms with what I told her.
"This is all so confusing and unbelievable," she moaned.
"I know it must be hard to comprehend but somehow you must have intuitively known the ravine and the house had some kind of link to your deceased fiancé."
"Yes, that is remarkable," she agreed, "but that's not what's upsetting me."
I looked at her, not comprehending her meaning.
"The fact is, I have no neighbour on the opposite bank of the ravine. All that land is Conservation Area. There are no houses of any kind."
I felt frisson of fear rise inside me as a wave of terror crept up my spine.