The Oxford Set
Cressida and Duncan Jones lived in a Grade II listed former Victorian vicarage deep in the heart of rural Glevumshire, on the edge of the picturesque village of Sodom.
Immaculate gardens surrounded the property, with a stream running through it. Beyond the perimeter, one could also see views of the neighboring countryside.
It was also the most haunted building in the world, but Cressida and Duncan tried to draw attention away from that fact strategically.
Every so often, Cressida’s brother Micheal and his family visited them.
The spirits in the garden had become accustomed to the vast array of classic British cars that slowly made their way up the gravel path towards the house once every four months.
Only Evelyn, Micheal’s daughter, who took any notice of them.
The nun caught her attention the most. Evelyn often thought she looked lonely, silently walking by the hedge.
She didn’t truly know who she was, or why she was there, but one day she hoped to.
Together with her friends, a headless man and an elderly gentleman pointing to the sky with one hand and the ground with the other,
Evelyn called them ‘the weird people.’
Her husband, Marcus, often joked about them being ghosts, but Evelyn dismissed those claims. Ghosts don’t exist, do they?
Evelyn’s sister-in-law, Scarlett, quickly glanced at the window directly above the front door, and saw a man stare back at her. A man in a plumb dressing gown.
”Somebody’s up there,” Scarlett said.
The rest of the family quickly looked up at the window, only to see nothing.
”There’s no one there, Scarlett,” Ben, Scarlett’s brother-in-law, said.
“There was a second ago, a man in a dressing gown,” Scarlett said.
”Duncan must’ve just got out of bed, clearly,” Micheal said.
”That wasn’t Duncan, trust me,” Scarlett said.
”Maybe it was one of the ghosties?” Scarlett’s husband, Dylan, said.
The rest of the family looked at him before turning towards the house.
”Let’s find out, shall we?” Micheal said, walking over to the door and knocking on it.
Within a few moments, Cressida and Duncan appeared at the door, warmly greeting their visitors as they often did.
Scarlett immediately knew that Duncan did not look like the man above the door, and could not possibly have changed his clothes in the time between looking at her through the window and appearing at the door, but she said nothing.
One by one, the Jones family walked over the threshold and made their way towards the drawing room at the far end of the hall.
Eventually, it was the turn of Micheal’s son, Ben, and his wife, Alice.
Alice froze in the doorway.
The oppressive feeling she always had when visiting her husband’s aunt and uncle suddenly overcame her.
She never liked the place, she didn’t know why. The house didn’t look like one someone could hate, and yet somehow she did.
After a while, Ben gently grabbed her hand for moral support and the two of them crossed the threshold together and didn’t let go until they were safely in the drawing room.
All the while, the man in the dressing gown silently observed them from the first floor landing. Not even Scarlett noticed he was there.
Inside their drawing room, Cressida, Duncan, and their visitors sat in cosy armchairs with a cup of tea each.
Watching them from the corner was an elderly gentleman in 19th century clothing, who went unnoticed by everyone in the room.
”Even if the government has added fluoride to the water, surely that is a good thing?” Micheal said, sipping his tea. “Isn’t it better to prevent tooth decay beforehand instead of paying vast amounts of money on dental surgery?”
”You don’t get it, do you?” Cressida said. “It’s a scam, the whole thing is. They’re just saying it prevents tooth decay to hide from the truth. It’s probably a way of disposing toxic waste, or to hide some major failure in the dental industry.”
Cressida and Micheal never really got on. Cressida believed every conspiracy theory under the sun whilst Micheal saw himself as a level-headed centrist dad.
But in some ways, he didn’t mind this. He loved trying to debunk her theories every time they crossed paths. It was just a shame that
Micheal couldn’t dissuade her because she was so set in her ways.
The rest of the family patiently waited for the argument to be over so they could discuss something more stimulating.
The man in 19th Century dress found it all the most amusing, however. Oh, how the world has changed since he was alive.
Eventually, Scarlett grabbed an opportunity to steer the conversation in another direction with both hands, not letting go.
”Who’s the guy upstairs?” Scarlett said.
Cressida leaned towards Scarlett in disbelief.
”What do you mean?” She said.
”There’s a guy in a dressing gown upstairs,” Scarlett said.
Cressida sighed angrily.
”I know there are rumours about this house being haunted by a former vicar, but it’s all nonsense. There is nothing odd about this
house, end of,” Cressida said.
”But I saw somebody. Only for a few seconds, but he was there,” Scarlett said.
”It must have been the water you were drinking,” Cressida said, shooting a look at her brother.
”For once, I agree with you, Cress,” Ben said. “There is no way ghosts can exist. It’s astounds me how anyone can still believe in them.”
Scarlett said no more, instead choosing to consume her tea in silence.
Her mother-in-law, Victoria, made the decision to start a conversation about general family updates.
The man in 19th Century dress watched on, quietly enjoying the family drama.
Harry Playne stood on the first floor, looking out over the gardens below, like he usually did.
He watched many people come and go over the years, but Scarlett Jones was one of the few people who noticed him.
He didn’t know who she was, just as she wasn’t sure who he was, but he was equally perturbed to be noticed by her as she was seeing him.
His fate condemned him to stay here for another three thousand, nine hundred and four years as penance for the sins he committed whilst alive, before finally being able to meet the God he served in life.
When there wasn’t anyone else outside, he had no choice but to watch Marie Larre, the nun whom he had murdered two hundred years ago, wandering around the garden for an unknown period.
The servant girl he killed was also here, somewhere, but she kept herself hidden away from him.
He hastily buried her remains deep beneath the foundations of the house, which were still there.
Occasionally, their paths would cross. They’d lock eyes, and it would be painful for the both of them.
Once again being bored with looking out of the window as he often did, Harry returned to the first floor landing and observed the front door of the house, waiting for the next person to cross the threshold.
He’d done the journey between the window and the landing for a hundred and sixty-two years, and was going to continue it for several thousand years more, unless he successfully got himself exorcised first.
The Robinsonverse 