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NEW AUTHORS SHOWCASE
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6M p7 |
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House of Wishes By Helen Chandler |
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Synopsis 148 words
When Lois Meadows inherits a 16th century cottage in Brittany, it seems an ideal opportunity to put the past behind her and make a fresh start. However, as she pieces together the strange history of the old house, she is disturbed to learn how a childish game, played two generations ago, began a chain of events which culminated in tragedy years later.
With the help of her new neighbour Megan – a researcher in the paranormal – Lois is determined to uncover the mystery surrounding the house. But, by the time she has learnt the full truth about the cottage and its disturbing secret, it seems it may already be too late to stop the sinister course of events.
As supernatural happenings recur and a story of thwarted love unfolds, Lois must decide whom she can trust – and find a way to stop history repeating itself before tragedy strikes again…
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Chapter Fourteen (Sample) 288 words
Clara would never know, she told Jacques afterwards, why she had done what she did next. Nor indeed could she account for the rush of adrenalin that had given her the almost super-human strength to do it. She only knew that what she had attempted to do that night – and failed dismally – had been Cathy’s last chance of happiness with Jean-Luc. Now, not only had she lost this, but in addition Odile would almost certainly go back to her family – or to the police – and tell them of tonight’s events. And now it would be not only a story of attempted bribery. The likelihood was that it would also result in a charge of attempted murder. And Cathy would be arrested and would die here in a French prison…
Without thinking things through clearly or stopping to consider the consequences, Clara had walked, as if in slow motion, over to the row of shining tools hanging from the rafters. She had removed one of them and walked purposefully back to where Odile lay, semi-conscious, on the straw-covered earthen floor.
It was there that Jacques saw her still lying, some half an hour later, when Clara led him by the hand into the barn. By the light of the single electric bulb, he could make out the figure of Cathy, her white nightdress stained red with blood, sobbing uncontrollably. The girl lying on the floor at her feet was quite still now. Her eyelids no longer flickered. Indeed, she would never move again, for the shiny pitchfork Clara had rammed down into her chest had impaled her to the earthen floor. One of its sharp prongs had slid easily between her ribs, piercing her heart and killing her instantly.
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Chapter Ten (Sample) 1064 words
They had chosen a table in a cool corner of the café, to shelter from the scorching heat and to give themselves more privacy to examine their discovery.
Lois turned to the relevant chapter and, their heads bent over the page together, they began to read.
The legend of Les Sorbiers, they learnt, had begun in the sixteenth century, shortly after the house was built. It had been constructed for a wealthy merchant, Julien Delacour, and his wife Agnès, who had moved there from Nantes, at that time the capital of Brittany. In 1523 Agnès gave birth to a daughter. A beautiful, happy and gifted child, Béatrice was adored by all who knew her. Her parents had good reason to cherish her: they had wanted a child for many years and had almost given up all hope. Delighted to have a daughter now, on whom to lavish their considerable wealth as well as their affection, they had given Béatrice everything money could possibly buy…
“Er – Mesdames – excusez-moi!”
A polite cough beside them brought the girls momentarily back to the present. The waiter seemed to find something rather amusing in the sight of their two heads, one dark and one blonde, bent earnestly over the old book.
“Is it something interesting?” he asked them politely in English.
“Oh yes, very interesting!” Megan was barely able to disguise her impatience as she waited for their plates and drinks to be placed in front of them.
As the waiter left, Lois took a sip from her bowl of cider and, lifting a forkful of galette to her mouth, nodded at Megan to turn the page.
The story went on to tell how Béatrice, despite her privileged circumstances, had shown little interest in the materialistic lifestyle of her parents. As she grew up, she preferred to spend her time in the grounds of Les Sorbiers, or at the river nearby. Approaching her fifteenth birthday, she would often be found gathering herbs and flowers and distilling them to make potions and remedies. When asked where she had learnt how to do this, she became unusually reticent and evasive, reluctant to reply.
One day, Béatrice’s mother followed her, at a distance, on one of her trips to the river. The girl headed straight for a small cottage where she was greeted by an elderly woman in a long hooded cloak. To her concern, Agnès recognised this person as the local “wise-woman” and herbalist. The villagers were, it seemed, happy enough to go to her for herbal remedies when their own doctors failed them, but secretly they would call her a witch. And now Agnès could see her beloved only child talking to this woman and being taught to make these potions for herself…
“The Sorcière’s Apprentice!” said Megan with a grin, munching on a piece of crusty bread as they continued to read.
Béatrice had, it appeared, been warned by her mentor to keep their lessons secret because of the local people’s thinly veiled prejudices. However, being an honest child, when her mother confronted her outright that evening, she had confessed to everything. Her parents, horrified, had then banned her from going out alone and the lessons with the wise-woman came to an abrupt halt.
However, so the story went, Béatrice had learnt some basic spells during her visits to the riverside cottage and was determined to do what she could to counter her parents’ restrictions. One night, hiding in the attic at Les Sorbiers, she had used her limited knowledge of herbs and simple sorcery to concoct a spell, which she carried out by the full moon. If granted, the spell would make her free again to continue the lessons she loved so much with her friend by the river.
The spell was granted sooner than she had expected. A particularly virulent strain of influenza swept through the village, claiming many lives. Although Béatrice herself was spared, her parents both contracted the virus and died within days. Orphaned, heiress to great wealth and the owner of a beautiful house, Béatrice was indeed now free to do whatever she pleased.
Megan and Lois exchanged looks. The story had an all too familiar ring to it. Looking rather more sombre now, they read on.
Béatrice, naturally, was devastated. However, she loved her home at Les Sorbiers and refused to return to her relatives in Nantes. Instead, she invited her friend and mentor the herbalist to come and live with her and, for the rest of the old woman’s days, they cared for each other like mother and daughter. Thus, the stone house became known to the villagers as the “witches’ cottage” and, although the two who lived there were quite harmless, the local people would give the place a wide berth, especially at night.
When her elderly friend became ill several years later, Béatrice did everything she could to prolong her life. Still riddled with guilt over the death of her parents, she could not accept that her friend was simply approaching the natural end of her days and, when her healing potions and spells failed, she blamed herself bitterly for this third death. Unable to live with the guilt she was feeling, and having no wish to face the future alone, Béatrice had concocted a strong sleeping draught. Taking a lethal dose of this, she had ended her own life.
However, the story continued, many sightings were reported to have been made at the stone cottage over the last few centuries. In each instance, a young woman had appeared, often to unsuspecting newcomers, making them believe that their wishes could be granted. It was thought that this was no malevolent ghost, but simply the spirit of poor Béatrice, anxious to make amends by doing some good in the afterlife. It was reported, however, that every time a wish was granted, the same thing occurred. Just as in the case of Béatrice’s own parents, someone had paid the price – with their life.
To this day, the chapter concluded, it was said that Béatrice could sometimes be seen wandering in the grounds of Les Sorbiers, collecting herbs and plants to make her potions and spells. Many people claimed to have seen her, wearing the hooded cloak that had belonged to the old wise-woman. It was by this green cloak that she was instantly recognisable – and by her beautiful long red hair.
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