It was about a month after Molly and her parents, Jean and Paul, had moved into the old vicarage when a number of strange things began to happen. At first it wasn’t that unusual; the occasional bump in the middle of the night or a broken plate. Molly slept through all the noises; it was her mother, Jean, who heard everything. Molly’s dad could sleep through anything. He said her mother was imagining things; broken objects could be easily explained because the family cats could have knocked things over.
One evening the whole family were sitting in the lounge watching TV; Jean slipped out into the kitchen to make a pot of tea when she gave out a tremendous scream. Molly and her dad raced into the kitchen to discover her mother pointing at the back door.
‘What’s the matter dear?’ asked Paul.
‘It was there,’ she quivered.
‘What was?’
‘A man,’ she said clutching his arm.
Paul moved across to the back door. Molly was grabbed by her mother and held tight. Molly was amazed how hysterical adults could get over seeing ghosts. At least she presumed her mother had seen the ghost of the little old man. Molly had seen him so many times it didn’t bother her. Her dad was out on the porch checking for intruders. He returned and announced there wasn’t anyone out side.
‘But he wouldn’t be,’ said Molly said quietly.
‘What do you mean?’ asked her dad.
‘He lives here.’
‘What?’ exclaimed her mother.
‘He lives here. I met Jim when we first arrived; he’s very friendly, he won’t harm you.’
Jean stared open mouthed at Molly. Paul walked across to Molly and placed a hand on her shoulder.
‘Darling if there is somebody coming into our house and using our kitchen you should tell us.’
‘Dad?’
‘Yes?’
‘Did you unlock the back door?’
‘Yes, why?’
‘Then how did he get in?’
Paul looked puzzled and then looked into Molly’s eyes to see if he could discover she was making things up. Molly had gone through the stage of a make belief friend he hoped it wasn’t starting again. ‘You know you should always tell the truth,’ he said. Molly stared hard at him and then ran upstairs to her room.
All went quiet for several weeks. There were no noises in the night and no unexpected visitors to the kitchen. If Molly had seen Jim she wasn’t telling her parents. Molly arrived home from school one Friday evening and sat at the kitchen table chatting about her day to her mother. Her mum was busying herself at the stove when without any warning the seat closest to Molly began to move as if someone was pulling it out in order to sit down. Her mother caught a glimpse of this and screamed she grabbed Molly and ran into the hallway.
She dialled a number ‘Hello? Paul? It’s happening again.’
‘I’ll be home as soon as I can,’ he said calmly.
‘No! Get here now! I can’t stay in this house a minute longer.’
‘Okay, go next door and I’ll join you.’
Molly and her mother left the vicarage rushed next door. Molly couldn’t understand all the fuss.
Paul arrived home and collected them from their neighbours, he announced they were going away for a few days break to the sea-side. Molly was really astonished because her dad rarely sprung surprises.
They arrived at the hotel late evening; the sun had set but the sky still held a warm glow. Although the journey had been relatively short everyone including Molly was tired and ready for bed. Awakening the next morning she looked out of her window to behold the most idyllic little cove; she couldn’t wait to explore.
They all walked down to the cove. The hotel had provided a picnic lunch which Molly’s dad carried. The cove was reached by a set of steps following the curve of the cliffs. The sand was soft and warm to the touch as Molly ran bare footed towards the waters edge. There was no one else on the beach. Her mum and dad spread a rug on the sand and sat down placing the picnic basket near a rock to keep the contents in the shade.
‘Good morning,’ said a voice behind them. They turned to see a young lady dressed in a black dress and white apron.
‘Good morning,’ replied Jean, ‘lovely day.’
‘Are you staying at the hotel?’ enquired the young lady.
‘Yes. You obviously work there.’
‘Is that your daughter by the water?’
‘She’s called Molly,’ said Paul.
The young lady walked off in the direction of Molly. They watched her chatting to Molly. When Molly returned to her parents she asked if she could play with the young lady. She was told to keep within sight. For most of the morning they ran and chased and even explored around the rock pool on the west side of the cove. Around lunch time Molly returned her cheeks flushed and excited about her new friend.
‘Mum, she’s ever so nice can she eat with us?’ asked Molly.
‘Of course dear,’ replied her mum.
When they looked for her she had gone. Her dad suggested she had to return to serve the lunch at the hotel for the other guests. The lady didn’t return in the afternoon. It wasn’t until the following morning on the beach that Molly caught sight of her.
‘Look there she is,’ yelled Molly.
The young lady turned and waved. Molly raced down the steps towards the lady. Her parents watched as they ran across the sands chasing each other. Settling down on the sands Molly and the young lady came and sat down beside them.
‘You certainly have a lovely way with children. Do you often look after the children staying at the hotel?’ asked Jean.
‘When I have a free moment; normally I have so much work to do. I love the mornings on the beach it’s my favourite time of the day.’ As she said this she turned and looked in the direction of the rock pool and then to the top of the cliff above.
‘Have you worked here long?’ asked Paul.
‘A number of years… I met someone special here…..’ she broke off as a tear trickled down her cheek.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Jean and she stretched out her hand to comfort the lady who pulled away before the hand could touch her.
‘I must return to the hotel.’
The rest of the morning was spent exploring the cove. Molly and her parents looked at the rock pool and nearby caves. When they returned to the hotel they decided to have a quick lunch and then go for a walk along the cliff path. Molly’s mum knew she would have to return to the vicarage but for the moment she wanted to put it to the back of her mind.
The sun wasn’t too hot but Molly was told to put on a hat. They turned left out of the hotel and followed the signs indicating cliff path. Occasionally the path went a little too close to the edge and Molly was warned to keep back. After about an hour walking they stopped to take in the view across the cove towards the rolling hills beyond; the hotel looked so small in the distance. A figure was running along the path towards them. Molly waved. The person didn’t wave but ran towards the cliff edge. They were stunned when the figure jumped. The black dress billowed out like a small parachute; for a moment the figure appeared to remain suspended in midair before falling. Paul raced along the path towards the point where she jumped. Molly and her mother clutched each other in shock. When Paul returned he had a puzzled look on his face.
‘There’s no one there,’ he said, ‘I looked over the edge and whoever jumped is not on the rocks below.’
‘I don’t understand,’ said Jean, ‘We all saw her jump. It was the lady we met on the beach.’
They returned to the hotel without saying a word. They reported the incident to the manager. He looked at them with wide eyes and shook his head slowly.
‘It was a tragic incident. Jane had worked here when my father ran the hotel. She fell in love with one of the guests. They were often seen walking along the beach early morning or exploring the rock pool. He left without saying good bye; Jane found a note explaining that he was married and had decided to return to his wife. Jane was so distraught she threw herself off the cliff onto the rocks below.’ He turned and looked at the calendar, ‘Today is the anniversary of her death.’
‘When did she die?’ asked Molly.
‘Thirty years ago.’
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