Evelyn Hill was oppressed by childhood ghosts and forced to live in a dark manse for a year according to the terms of her dead mother’s will.
But we had an arrangement. I’d take a room in spooky Hill House and offer her moral support to get her through this rough patch in her life, and in return, I’d get close to the woman I secretly loved.
Again, I fell back on my default plan—hoping physical proximity might somehow lead to intimacy.
Although being workplace colleagues didn’t lead to romance, living down the hall in a haunted house would definitely kick it up a notch. Besides, I had nothing to lose by trying.
I moved in over the next few days and Ev and I ended up having rooms next to each other on the second floor.
I met the housekeeper, Eleanor, and Peter the gardener, and of course, became acquainted with the murky manse with its dark alcoves, mahogany paneling, turreted rooms and creaking floorboards.
Hill House was actually a beautiful manse built in the Gothic style and located in the Annex area of Toronto, not far from the university. I could walk to and from the campus.
I felt I was living the dream—until the second night of my stay. Well, maybe I should place things in perspective. The first day and a half I hardly saw Ev.
She had said we could share meals in the dining room seeing as Eleanor was employed to carry on as housekeeper and cook for the duration of the year.
Unfortunately, only I sat at the long table, served by the taciturn Eleanor and observed by Cecil, a huge black Siamese with a baleful stare.
After dinner, I retreated to the great room where a fire was bubbling in the huge stone fireplace and spent an hour or so sipping Medoc and reading. That was when the dire events began.
I heard a scream coming from the second floor of the manse. I was immediately out of my seat and bounding up the stairs in the direction of Evelyn’s room.
The upper corridor was in darkness and the light switch wouldn’t work.
For a moment, I felt a wave of panic wash over me. I felt nauseous as the hair on my arms and the back of my neck stood on end.
The very air about me seemed full of static electricity as if in a lightning storm.
I had an overwhelming urge to flee—to leave the house and never return, but the only thing that stopped me was concern for Ev.
The upper floor was deathly silent and I was deeply concerned for her safety.
“Ev—are you alright?” I cried out to the darkness.
I heard nothing, but as my eyes adjusted to the dark I could make out the faint outline of a door directly ahead of me.
I groped my way toward it and knocked.
“Ev, are you in there?”
There was a shuffling noise and suddenly the door flew open and Ev stood there pale and shivering, holding a candle sconce.
I forgot all about my shyness and put an arm around her and helped her back downstairs to the comfort and warmth of the grate.
My views about spirits had definitely changed, and I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to help her or give into my own fears and run away.
