MG Harris' Ghost Story

This happened to Jennifer. She babysat me thirty years ago.

Jennifer was disorganized, especially about cars. Driving through the countryside one night, her car slowed to a halt – out of petrol.

In the middle of nowhere.

Outside it was pitch-black. No moon, no street lamps. Velvety darkness. The narrow road cut through a little wood. Between the trees Jennifer spotted a light burning.

A house.

Jennifer was young enough to have the Hansel and Gretel story in her head but too busy being cool to remember. So she forgot to be scared.

A little old lady opened the door. Slowly. She looked surprised to see Jennifer. But then a smile spread over her face. She had a kind face, soft pink-and-white cheeks like a fuzzy peach. There was something about that smile … but Jennifer couldn’t put her
finger on it.

The air smelled rich, sweet, of caramel. Treacle tart, the old lady said. “Can I use your phone?” Jennifer said. Another smile, this time sad.

“Doesn’t work… There’s something wrong with the electricity.”

She sliced buttery chunks of warm, gooey treacle tart, heaped whipped cream on top. She poured tea from a pot in a cosy. Jennifer became so comfy she didn’t want to leave.

So she stayed. Not a hard decision. Cold car versus warm bed. And as much pie as she could eat.

Next morning Jennifer woke to the smell of frying sausages and tomatoes. That old lady took great care of my babysitter.

Jennifer set off for the nearest village, four miles away. At a pub, she begged someone to sell her a gallon of petrol. Jennifer described where she’d left the car.

What house in the woods? What old lady?

From the back of the pub, an elderly voice said, “I know the house. Ain’t no one lived there for years. Ten, at least.”

A villager drove Jennifer back to her car. The house was there – but empty.

“It was a fire. Bad electrics, burned out. Mrs Adams she was, that died. Relatives couldn’t sell the house. Cursed – so they say.”

Stunned, Jennifer wracked her brain. Had she dreamt it?

Yet the taste of that treacle tart stayed with her. For years.

If you enjoyed this story, why not try M.G.’s book: The Joshua Files: Invisible City
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by MG Harris