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CHAPTER FIVE

A visit to the library

The next day, at twelve thirty, Marilyn hurried to the Sandbourne Central Library. She went over to the man at the desk.

‘Excuse me,’ she said, ‘have you got any books about the history of Sandbourne. old maps, anything like that?’

‘Oh, yes,’ he said. ‘What do you want to know?’

‘Er, I’m interested in the High Trees Estate area. I live there, and I’ve always been interested in history.’

‘Well, come over here, we’ll have a look.’

Marilyn followed the man to a shelf of books about the history of the area.

‘I’m very interested in old stories– ghost stories– things like that,’ she said.

‘Ghost stories’ he said. There won’t be many ghost stories about that area. It’s all new.’

‘Er– what was there before the housing estate’ asked Marilyn.

‘Well, that’s easy. It used to be High Trees Farm. They knocked down the farm five, maybe six years ago.’

‘Have you got an old map’ she asked.

‘Yes, I’ll find it for you,’ said the man.

When Rick came out of the office, Marilyn was waiting in the car. She opened the door.

‘Rick,’ she said, ‘I went to the library today.’

‘Why’ he said. ‘You don’t believe there really is a ghost, do you?’

‘I found an old map of the area,’ she said. There used to be a farm. The estate is built on an old farm.’

‘So’ said Rick.

‘I looked at the map. The farmhouse used to be where Balmoral Avenue is now. It used to be right in the middle of Balmoral Avenue.’

‘Yes?’

‘Well, our house, number thirty-five, is right in the middle of the Avenue. Perhaps our house is just where the farmhouse used to be. I looked in another book. The farmhouse was built about two hundred years ago.’

‘That doesn’t mean there’s a ghost! There are thousands of old houses with no ghost stories. Anyway, I don’t believe in ghosts. And neither do you.’

‘Until today,’ said Marilyn. ‘Can you explain about the newspaper in the cupboard? The letters? The bed that was made? The clean coffee cups? The light in the bathroom?’

‘We’ve been very busy,’ said Rick. ‘We’ve been busy at work, and we’ve been working hard in our free time on the house. We’re forgetting things, that’s all.’

‘I hope so, Rick,’ she said. ‘I hope so.’

They arrived home. Marilyn opened the door and turned on the light. There, on the hall table, was a neat pile of letters.