A Handful of Golden Guineas by Jennie Hart

 Driffield in Yorkshire - the setting for the story . 
The author's Aunt Susie, standing on the step, was the proprietor of the shop before the author's parents took over. 
Her great grandad Billie, a waterman on a keel barge, stands just inside the doorway.

Chapter 1

There was no possibility of the family going for a winter walk that day, Mum was baking and dad was doing his home improvements. Gladys recalled her ten year old self and remembered the frightening night. It was the Christmas holidays, a hectic period, when mum baked Christmas cakes for the whole town.

Dad always chose to give the sitting room a fresh coat of paint the very week it was overflowing with mum’s seasonal creations. Every surface held a cake. White emulsion splashed on to the white sugary decoration would have been a disaster and when it occasionally happened there were fireworks.. Mum was famous for her cakes; the marzipan was formed from the very best ground almonds and her special technique with white icing was to add a teaspoon of glycerine to the mix to make it splendidly less brittle. Gladys looked back on the old house with conflicting feelings. After this day,  she was never at ease there again. The house, near the canal, had low ceilings and uneven walls. Her father dealt with the irregular walls by applying thick layers of plaster and obscuring the defects as best he could, one of dad’s favourite pastimes.

‘What the eye does not see, the heart does not grieve over,’ he would say, she reminisced.

The effect was successful because with an old fork, he swirled the wet plaster in a pattern resembling ocean waves, thus concealing the lumps and bumps.

Gladys remembered it was Sunday when the accident happened;

The sitting room looked stark with its new coat of white emulsion and dad’s plan that day was to restore the room to a place where he and mum could be comfortable. There were paintings to be rehung and a large dinner gong dad bought at the local auction. The gong required a long stout nail to hold its weight and Gladys remembered watching as dad raised the hammer, but she didn’t see it strike the nail. She could still visualise the flash and hear the resounding explosion after all these years. Her heart raced as she recalled dad lying on the carpet. Mum and Uncle Charles came rushing in. Dad was a bit shaken but soon recovered but he had plunged the house into complete darkness. The house windows were small and the rooms cramped so even at midday the house was bright with artificial light. Dad’s error was to hammer the nail into an electric cable neatly buried beneath the new plaster. Years later it was spoken of as a miracle he was not electrocuted but it had unexpected consequences. 

Gladys never liked the dark, even now now in her senior years, and she remembered being afraid to go to bed that night. Uncle Charles, dad’s brother had come to stay for the weekend and as there was no spare bed he was to sleep in Gladys’s room. She was to sleep on a camp bed in the Big Room. Gladys was afraid of the Big room which was at the top of the stairs on the left, just where the staircase turned right onto the narrow landing. She used to think that going upstairs was like entering a big cupboard because the staircase was steep and confined and enclosed by a door. Every night when going up to bed, she rushed past the Big room door, saying ‘Please keep me safe.’ She didn’t think mum ever heard.  

Candles kept in a kitchen drawer were soon in place in empty jam jars, giving a spooky glow to the rooms. Gladys clearly remembered her dread of bedtime that night and of mum taking her up to her temporary bed. It was in the middle of the Big room floor but welcoming with sheets and blankets and her favourite bed spread. Mum knew Gladys was miserable but calmed her by singing a much loved lullaby. No candle was left for Gladys in case it fell over, but moonlight through the thin pale curtains lit up the room causing the furniture to loom large and threatening. A piano by one wall and a long dark sideboard appeared huge in the weak moonlight. After mum had gone downstairs, the door of the sideboard squeaked terrifyingly when it opened of its own accord. A draft from the ill-fitting windows disturbed the curtains, causing them to billow and create eerie shadows.

Chapter 2

Gladys remembered shutting her eyes tight and putting her head under the blankets but couldn’t empty her mind of dad’s ghost stories. Mum’s grandmother Rose had lived in the house before them and she had told dad that an old woman haunted the Big room. None of the family had seen her except dad who said she had once past him on the stairs. Gladys shuddered at the thought, just as she had that night.

A grandfather clock stood sentinel across one corner and rays of moonlight heightened its features. Gladys had forgotten about the clock and at eleven o’clock the unexpected chimes frightened her even more.

She thought of Cinderella’s rich ballgown turning to rags at midnight. She touched her own nightgown to make sure it still felt the same. How shocking when it did not. What had happened to the comforting soft fabric? Her gown felt rough and there were no self-covered buttons, only an opening at the neck. Nor could she feel the little collar that completed her own cosy nightie. She stroked her hair. Gladys wore it short and tidy but tonight long hair tumbled over her shoulders. In the moving shadows it looked fair, not her own dark shade. 

Gladys reminisced on the fear that overcame her when she heard the sound of voices. Peering over the covers she saw the door open. An old woman, small and stooping and wearing a shawl entered followed by a tall younger woman in a long dark gown. They both held candles in shiny brass holders which reflected the candlelight. The younger woman set hers on the piano. Gladys lay rigid and closed her eyes; she didn’t want to see them or the visitors to notice her.

‘Rosie is asleep so let’s be quiet as mice. Where shall we hide them mum? In the usual place?’

‘It’s the best place’, the old woman replied, ‘And then we can be sure your dad won’t find them. He’ll spend it on rum and beer and we’ll have no money for Christmas. How much is there? I thought I counted thirty guineas, You’re a good woman Beatrice, doing that beautiful needle work for the big house and their grand wedding. These guineas will tide us over till spring, as long as your dad doesn’t get his hands on them.’

Gladys held her breath as she recalled that her great grandmother, who she had never known, was called Beatrice. Her grandmother, who had recently died, was named Rose. Rose was her own mother’s mother. She touched her night gown again. And her hair.

Beatrice collected her candle and moved with her elderly mother to the fireplace. The old woman told her daughter to search for a tiny hook and catch on the left hand pillar of the fireplace and it would release a little door. Behind the door she would find a cubby hole. Gladys heard murmurings as the women conferred, followed by a metallic sound of the coins being placed in the cavity. She lay motionless, terrified for her life. The women moved from the fireplace and Beatrice guided her mother towards the door. The hinges strained as they closed it behind them and in a moment, they were gone.

Chapter 3

Elderly Gladys remembered afresh the panic that overcame her that night so long ago. She could still imagine her hot and clammy hands. Young Gladys was alone again and rigid with fright. She touched her nightgown again but this time felt the old familiar fabric. She felt for the tumbling hair but felt only her own short bob.

‘I’m not Rose, I’m Gladys, I’m Gladys!’

She tiptoed out of bed and fearfully approached the closed door. She painstakingly opened it and peeped through. There was no one there.

She bolted down the stairs to find her mother. Mum was astonished at her colourless face and burning hands and thought she must have a fever. The story poured out and mum listened in disbelief.

‘You’ve got overtired and had a dream dear girl, let’s get you back to bed and I’ll bring you some hot milk.’

‘Mum, I never want to sleep in that room again. Please can I sleep with you and dad? I’ll lie still and not fidget’

You mustn’t be frightened by a dream Gladys. It sounds like a nightmare and no wonder after the fright we all had today. Poor dad is still upset.’

‘Mum, please let’s go and see if there really is a cupboard where the old lady said. I promise if there isn’t I won’t be silly and I will go back to bed. Has that fireplace been there a long time?

‘Oh yes, it would always have been part of the house, it’s extremely old. Let’s go and look and put your mind at rest.’

Gladys, still panic stricken, followed her mum into the Big room and they stooped to examine the fireplace. 

‘Look mum, there is a little catch! It’s so small you can hardly see it.’

Gladys recalled her mother feeling for the catch and opening the concealed door. She almost fainted with shock.

‘Mother, what’s there? Is there anything at all? Please let me see.’

Mum took a minute to compose herself then reached in the tiny cupboard and brought out a handful of golden guineas.’

‘Oh Mum, You see! I was telling the truth. Those people did come. Do you think they were ghosts? I’ve never seen more than one guinea at once. Are we rich mum?’

Mum gave an apprehensive smile and put her arms around Gladys.

‘Who would have thought it’ she said.

 Elderly Gladys remembered how her mother had almost fainted. Rose had been her mother.

‘One more thing mum, I want to look on of the piano’

Gladys stood on tiptoes and there, where she had seen Beatrice place her candle holder, was a little pool of newly set wax.

‘Oh mum’ she said,‘Please please let me sleep with you tonight.’

Old Gladys closed her eyes. She reminded herself it was 2019 and time to go to bed in her cosy bedroom with en-suite.

Young Gladys had never had to sleep in the Big Room again.

 The End