Monday 2 July 2007

Always With Us

My grandmother-in-law used to carry the keys tied around her waist under her skirt (long, black, ankle- length). I keep them in the dresser drawer owing to inadequate quantities of material. At first I kept unoccupied parts of the house locked but my strategy now is to leave all internal doors openable; I need to get in there quickly to catch what's on the other side.

What do you do about ghosts? They're here, undeniably, and I didn't believe in ghosts. Feelings have begun to run high now I'm here all the time. Mine, incredulity followed by fear, and theirs, unknown, have resulted in a stand off - I'll not be intimidated, they were here first.

Preparing lunch, noon, sunlit kitchen tra la tra la, and the main door slams. Footsteps, male, heavy, mount the stairs, accompanied by the undertones of serious male discussion. I'm fooled no longer; this is not someone coming in for lunch, it's them. Continue with the battuta, listen to them heading up to the next floor, and good luck to them, they're always doing that one.

During an after dinner game of scala quaranta a perfectly decent hand has to be abandoned as gigantic thumps and crashes cause fears that the roof is coming in at the piazza end. We hustle outside and survey a silent square, street, townhall, church, and shuttered, sleeping neighbours. Upstairs dust covers rooms undisturbed and closed.

Local people murmur of clanks and chains, dug up suits of armour with buried ladies resting their feet on them, and blessings administered; visitors ask who is hurrying through the room near the church end, face averted with baby in her arms, ignoring them as they lie in bed amazed.

'What is la ronda?' I ask. It's sort of sentry duty; that'll be the heavy pacing after nightfall but what is going on at midday? Last weekend I came back from Florence to find that things were settling into a live and let live mode. Sounds from the gallery turned into a cinema had suggested a making themselves comfy in the armchairs, adjusting of the furniture activity; noise levels are falling and furniture merely being rearranged rather than hurled.

'None of us were here for a long time, but they wouldn't hurt us; they are our past.' remarks Mr HG.

'Am I one of us?' I ask. Mrs Thatcher would be proud of me.

18 comments:

Nick Drew said...

HG, is it the ghosts that have insisted on the new wallpaper ?

lilith said...

Splendid HG! My Ex has a ghost in the nursery...totally benign, even quite protective of the littl'uns, if a little chilly to encounter/walk through...!

Talking to them and being generally friendly is a good idea :-) Seems they like their new co-habitees!

hatfield girl said...

They paint pictures straight onto the plaster here ND. The wallpaper is a last remnant of Hatfield.

There's another Hatfield Girl now too. She lives there and writes about putting double yellow lines in Lemsfield Road and the Poles taking all the housing so people born and brought up in Hatfield have to move away. I think it's only fair she gets the name.

Nameless and homeless wooooo

hatfield girl said...

Talk to them, Lilith? They're all men from another time; except for the lady with the baby, who not only woke a musician sleeping that of the just, but scared him dreadfully because he spoke to her, and she went through the bannisters and walked away on a now non-existent floor.

It's a puzzle. I feel like Victor Meldrew. There are iron bars that drop in behind the inside shutters on the first floor, and bars on the groundfloor windows; so if they start I just turn over and leave them to it, no-one solid has got in.

Mr HG probably knows all their names. He's probably called after one of them. I've been supposed to be running this place since I was 24 and I've only just got up the nerve. Shows what the Brown terror can drive a woman to.

Nick Drew said...

But oh, that magic feeling -
Nowhere to go
Oh, that magic feeling,
Nowhere to go
Nowhere to go
Aah ...

hatfield girl said...

Well, they gave me my money, ND, I was quite particular about that; I'm not keen on the dollar at all at the moment and, while the pound should have nothing to fear, I still thought it best to load mine into the yellow lorry..

It all got safely here before last Wednesday. More FIAT I think, and the bank at the bottom of the hill actually rang up and asked me when would be a convenient time to call.

Nick Drew said...

I am still disconcerted by your funny paper

Newmania said...

You don’t need to worry about the ghosts HG its the mad axe murderer waiting his opportunity to leap out and snick your neck asunder you should be scared of. That or the rats or some local ruffian .
I `d suggest that you get a good pest and infestation company to give the place a look over.
It sounds idyllic , how I loved Florence I was only there for a few days ., Sienna was a pleasant surprise as well I recall. I see why you came up with the quote about Michelangelo which I am still congratulating myself for deciphering . My only worry is that with all that numinous afternoon light “dappling” through Olive groves and the wine and overpowering sensuality of the renaissance artists Mr. HG had better not leave you alone . It is inevitable that you will have an impossible affair with (um) Pedro the golden skinned boy David in the flesh . That day when he came to check the cellar for you…… that shy smile …. You will subsequently write a journal with plangent notes of exquisite regret and it will become a R 4 play . If you have a grown up (ish ) daughter she will be required to say things like
“ mummy don`t be so silly ..for goodness sake “


Deny it if you dare, this ghost thing is just the opening act....

hatfield girl said...

I `d suggest that you get a good pest and infestation company to give the place a look over.

It got so bad in the late 50s (1950s that is, it's not the first time, oh, no) that permission was given for an exorcism; the pest and infestation company rarely order those.

I wasn't around then; I fear i'm not acting with a sufficient air of authority so they're trying it on. I'm following Lilith's advice and remaining pleasant. But if this goes on it will be wafers at dawn.

ps I don't believe in this stuff; what is going on?

Newmania said...

what is going on?

Act 1 is going on HG as I said . These things always begin with an attack of uncharacteristic feyness by the protagonist. It acts as a sort of metaphor for the reappearance of enchantment . then ...in comes Pedro and Roberto is your uncle . You may also find yourself half hearing strains of something a bit like Prélude à l'après-midi d'un faune something just out of reach ..like a lost memory.Something dangerous but strangely beautiful is stirring but it is within.You need a therapist not an exorcist but I suspect your fate is sealed whatever you do .

hatfield girl said...

Ouch, N. I shall post on the European social model.

lilith said...

Surely you mean "Piero" Newmania?

And I bet HG's ghosts would scare you half to death... :-)

lilith said...

The first time I visited my ex's house (which has some very old parts from 1400's and a hideous 60s extension) I walked into the "Nursery" (which in turn led to ex's room) and said "Oh my God, youv'e got a ghost!"

He just matter of factly said "Yes".

Up until that point I didn't "believe" in ghosts, although I had an open mind.

I asked my girl about it just now and she (having slept many times in the Nursery throughout her life, from a baby)says it has never scared her. In fact "it tucked me in once when I was 6 and was too frightened to come downstairs and find you." Mainly it is just a very cold presence/feeling that moves around the room and bangs about, unlocking the wardrobe.

My ex says the ghost is male, possibly a priest?

lilith said...
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
hatfield girl said...

Perhaps you could all organise a charabanc trip, I'm told there were organised visits in the last century, before the second War, during a particularly lively chain jangling period.

The chap who drives the tractor is a lovely man N, as are the people who help from time to time with the trees and the vegetable garden (does anyone need any courgettes?) but I'm as likely to find myself in a railway tearoom in black and white as in the cellars with any of them.

Newmania said...

Brief encounter eh HG..yes very good . I just love the dialogue

" darling should we...
" Oh don`t speak ..."

Cheerio

Anonymous said...

I ran a pub in a 14th century origin building for 3 years. Entirely full of ghosts - it would be a whole blog to explain them all and not all were totally harmless

Anonymous said...

Lemsfield Road?

Were you conflating Lemsford Road and Wellfield Road HG?