I should have been focusing on packing Jamie's lunch for his first day of school but my mind was so preoccupied with the events that had unfolded yesterday that I almost packed Puska's beef and liver cat food mix into Jamie's lunch box.
Jamie's footsteps snapped me out of my stupor as he tentatively entered the kitchen.
"Its okay son, don't give me that look. I'm sorry I got so angry with you last night. I understand why you hadn't told me about finding your father's diary. You were right I wasn't ready to know what it contained. We'll talk later okay?"
"Sure mum, it's cool."
"My, don't you look handsome!"
"Now hurry it up or you'll be late and I already feel guilty enough that you've been at home all last week when you should have been at school...you know you'd have more time if you let me drive you Jamie!" I implored
"No way! No High School kid has his mother drive him to school. But you can give me the keys to Mag if you like?"
"Nice try son. Try again in a few years time."
Laughing at my son's cheeky retort I couldn't help but wonder how I got so lucky. He was so tall and handsome and wise beyond his years. And as he stood there flicking that gorgeous red hair of his I couldn't help but be reminded of his father.
"Bye Mum."
Already Jamie was out the door. Anxiously I ran after him
"Hey wait a minute Jamie; do you need some money for anything? Did you remember to brush your teeth?" Uh oh, I've got that I'm old enough to look after myself look! That's my cue to shut up.
"Okay ugly, I get the message! See you later.... have a good day." I called after him. "Don't do anything that I wouldn't do."
"Oh by the way mum I forgot to tell you. I hung a cool painting I found in the attic in the hallway upstairs." Jamie yelled over his shoulder, as he rode off on his bike.
I watched my son riding away on his bike too stunned to reply. Why hadn't the little monkey told me that last night I despaired; it would have at least given me a better night's sleep. So much for ghosts I sighed. Thank goodness I'd decided not to tell him what I'd experienced he would have said I was crazy.
I shrugged my shoulders dismissively telling myself that it had been the lighting that had caused the painting to glow and my imagination had done the rest. But how did I explain away that ghostly voice...
It was too beautiful a day to think too deeply about anything so I stood there enjoying the moment. Filled with pride I watched my darling son disappear down the driveway. He'd grown into such a wonderful young man. Smiling contentedly, I walked inside, thinking of how the girls at school would swoon over his cheeky good looks.
Walking upstairs to my bedroom to get dressed my eyes turned to that contentious painting that Jamie had hung on the wall near the attic stairs. Taken back I could hardly believe what I was seeing. The three young children that had been depicted there were now teenagers and the taller of the boys was the image of Jamie!
Instinctively I reached out to touch his sweet face and instantly the painting changed back. Dumbfounded I tried to convince myself that I'd imagined the whole thing, yet my gut told me differently. The forces at play were cleverly trying to manipulate me into succumbing to beliefs that were beyond the realms of reason. And if I wasn't careful I knew my identity would slip away into the murky fabric of this old house.
At that moment the manor seemed alive with evil intent and I could feel eyes watching me, willing me to submit. Defiantly I ran to my bedroom and quickly threw my clothes on; I couldn't wait to get out of there.
Grabbing my car keys and handbag I fled to the comforting familiarity of my car. Turning the key in the ignition I sighed with relief as I heard the lovely purr of Mag's motor. This was one morning that I couldn't deal with her being cantankerous.
"Good girl, Mag, you are a sweetheart you know. " Oh dear, how pathetic am I? Fancy saying that to a car! I think Jamie was right when he said talking to an inanimate object was the first sign of madness. "You know what Mag? It sure would explain a lot."
I sped down the driveway trying to rid myself of the madness flitting through my mind. Either the old manor was haunted or I was going insane. Each day that passed seemed to be more confronting than the last.
The manor faded from view and as I passed through its huge iron gates I began to unwind. Driving along the harbour road the beauty and tranquility surrounding me soon made me put things back in perspective and I reminded myself that I didn't believe in the supernatural.
Passing through the village I saw the queue of people waiting to board the old sailing ship. Guilt consumed me; I'd completely forgotten my promise to take Jamie to see it. Remorseful I drove across the bridge into Braden
As yet I hadn't explored the town and I was curious to see my husband's birthplace. Driving down Braden's main street I was surprised to see that it was a far larger town than I expected.
Curiously I found myself staring at everybody walking down the street wondering if they were as they seemed. What I'd read in Eric's diary had filled me with suspicion and I wondered what secrets Braden had in store for me.
The hustle and bustle of Braden distracted me momentarily from my thoughts, calming my anxieties, and soon I began to take a more objective interest in this quaint seaside town.
Banners advertising the upcoming 'Moon Harvest Festival' were every where reminding me that I'd planned to take Jamie next Saturday for his birthday. Turning into the Town Square I parked Mag in the first available spot and strolled towards the Town Hall.
The harbourside walk was a pleasant one filled with curiosities and tourists busily participating in all it had to offer. The presence of a strong yachting community surprised me, changing my view of what I'd believed was an unsophisticated town.
The squawking of seagulls was deafening, they were everywhere, even on the weird beast-like statues lining the square. Soon they were pecking at my feet and I frantically shooed them away. However one returned.
Persistently the tattered old seagull followed, circling me as I approached an enormous stone statue of a man at the foot of the Town hall steps. Squawking insistently it landed on the brass plaque at its base. Bemused I went to walk on, however the name on the plaque caught my eye.
William Braden Founder and Mayor of the town of Braden.
This statue was erected to honor his greatness and his contributions to the community on the 13th day of the 3rd Month of the year 1833 at the time of the celebration of 'Moon Harvest'.
Sadly on this day when all were gathered to honor him, he mysteriously disappeared, never to be seen again.
This plaque donated by the committee of the' Moon Harvest Festival', was unveiled by His Honor the Mayor, Mr. Harold Braden, on the centenary of 'Moon Harvest.'
13-3-1933
I felt my pulse quicken, William Braden had existed. He hadn't been a figment of Eric's imagination.
My mind went into overdrive, I knew I couldn't procrastinate any longer; I had to prove or disprove the content of Eric's diary. Hastily I climbed the steps and walked inside the Town Hall looking for the listing of the library on its directory certain that as the founder of Braden there would be loads of information of William Braden in its records.
Passing by the Committee room I noticed with interest the sign posted on the door asking for volunteers for the 'Moon Harvest Festival'. Acting on impulse I decided to offer my services hoping that the committee members might know the history of the Braden family.
As a stranger I was surprised that the women on the 'Moon Harvest' committee gladly welcomed my offer. Julie, the organizer of the 'Moon Harvest Ball' took me under her wing and we soon became fast friends.
Curiously everyone knew that my son and I had moved into the manor. However once they learnt that I was a journalist all were unwilling to discuss the Braden family.
The day sped pleasantly fast and as I said my goodbyes I decided that t
omorrow, unlike today, I'd be the matriarch of diplomacy and hopefully win their trust.
I hurried to where Mag was parked, concerned that I'd be late home for Jamie on his first important day of High School. And that wouldn't do, I told Mag, as I chatted merrily away to her whilst driving like a maniac home. Finally I reached the gates to the manor and suddenly Mag's motor stopped. Cursing I tried to start her motor, nothing. A cloud of dust sprang from nowhere engulfing Mag choking me.
As I ran from the car trying to evade the insidious dust that was taking the breath from my body I heard the neighing of horses and rumbling of carriage wheels and instinctively stepped to one side.
A heart-wrenching wail filled the air, as an ancient horse drawn wagon appeared filled with young women and babies clasped to their breast. Their beseeching eyes searched mine as the wagon sped past till it was lost in the mire of dust.
Instantly the cloud of dust vaporized along with the wagon in its midst and Mag's motor roared to life.