Footsteps in the Dark

Chapter 3

Helen toured the whole of the upper story without encountering anything remotely suspicious. Outside, the storm had been worsening; rain was hitting the windows almost like bullets from a machine gun, and Helen shivered as the tall Sycamore tree outside tapped it's branches routinely against the landing window in the wind.

  At last, she was ready to begin her search of downstairs. She breathed a small sigh of relief as she made her way down the carpeted stairs. Alright so far. Honestly, she had been silly, letting her imagination run away with her. Of course there was no one hidden in Hill House!

  She looked down at the candlestick in her hand, and laughed nervously. She was about to discard it when something inside her stopped her.

  "Still, better safe than sorry," she murmured, and gripped the brass implement tighter than ever.

  Looking around, Helen made a quick survey of all the rooms she would have to search. Her heart sank when the cellar door caught her eye.

  For a moment, she played with the thought of just skipping the cellar. But if she was to look Nell truthfully in the eye and say the house was all clear, she would have to go down there. And, although she would never admit it to herself, she wouldn't be able to sleep easy until she was certain every corner of the house was killer-free.

  All the same, she decided, I'll leave the cellar till last.

  She went over to the sitting room door.

  Switching on the electric light, she glanced around nervously. The curtains were open, exposing the endless black of outdoors. Helen immediately ran over and closed them.

  You're just being silly. You think you'll see a face looking through the window at you. Maybe he would be holding a bloody axe, she teased herself. She looked around. No-one here.

  She found the same in every other room. No-one. At last, one two other room remained. The kitchen, then the cellar.

  Helen approached the kitchen quickly. She wanted to get this search over as soon as possible now.

  Part of her was slightly disappointed in some strange way. Secretly, she had wished that she would find the killer, and for a moment, be like one of the heroines in her books. She knew it was insane, but she just couldn't help it.

  Once in the kitchen, Helen creased her eyebrows. There was something wrong.

  She quickly realized it was that Mrs Staton's sou'wester was still hanging upon the coat hook beside the back door.

  That's odd. It's not like her to forget things, especially her sacred sou'wester. Helen smiled at the thought of the housekeeper's immaculate perm frizzing to oblivion in the gale outside.

  Her silent laughter was cut short by a faint fizzling sound. Suddenly, all the lights disappeared, swamping her in darkness. Now, Helen was terrified.

  Get a grip on yourself, she thought, fists clenched tightly. It's just a power cut, that's all. What can you expect in this storm?

  A shrill scream pierced Helen's ears, and throwing down her heavy brass weapon, she dashed back up the stairs and stumbled into Nell's room.

  "Nell? Nell? Are you alright?" she demanded breathlessly.

  "Where have all the lights gone?" came the frightened reply from somewhere in the darkness.

  "Nell, don't move. I'll fetch the oil-lamp from my room."

  Helen left the doorway and felt her way into the spare room, the cheerful record still blaring. Fumbling, she managed to find the box of matches she remebered seeing on the mantelpiece. She cursed as she accidentally knocked over a small china ornament, which smashed onto the slate hearth.

  After what seemed like hours, she managed to light a match and then the large oil-lamp on her bedside table, a hangover from the non-electricity days of Hill House.

  She then breezed briskly back into Nell's room, the lamp flooding the room in a dim, eerie, yellow light. Helen could now make out Nell sitting next to the gramophone player, which was now silent.

  "There we are," she said, placing the lamp down, beside the fireplace. "Come back to bed Nell."

  Nell quietly obeyed.

  "Now, if you don't mind being in the dark for one moment, I'll go and fetch some candles from the kitchen."

  Without waiting for a reply, Helen walked slowly across the landing and down the stairs, scrutinizing every corner, every shadow.

  It's all right. You searched every inch of this house, apart from the cellar. Pull yourself together. There's nobody in the house apart from you… and Nell…

  Before she knew it, Helen found herself sprinting back up the stairs in a blind panic. There was so much fear on her face, Nell was quite alarmed.

  "What's wrong Helen? Did someone chase you?"

  Helen laughed shakily.

  "No. I just couldn't find any candles, that's all. We'll just have to manage with the lamp and that candle over there. Anyway, we won't need them, because we're both going to sleep." Helen paused, and looked around for ammunition. "And look at the time! Eleven o'clock! Sleep, young lady."

  Yawning, Helen then went and sat in the comfy armchair facing the fire, which sparked when she prodded it with the iron poker. Leaning over, she then turned down the lamp until it was almost extinguished.