The Oxford Set
It was a rainy, overcast December day in the trendy London borough of Splitafields, and Evelyn Ashbrook quietly sat at her desk in her candlelit study, working on her latest children’s book illustration.
As she painted the walls of the brightly coloured house in her drawing, she heard sounds coming from the wall next to her.
She heard sounds of footsteps hurriedly running across the floor, of children screaming and laughing, and of adults telling them to calm down.
Upon hearing these sounds, Evelyn smiled and rushed down to the living room to see her husband.
Marcus Ashbrook was adding the finishing touches to the drawing of the building he was designing when Evelyn rushed into the room.
”A family has moved into the house next door,” Evelyn said. “I think we should introduce ourselves.”
Marcus looked at Evelyn, confused.
“That was quick,” he said. “I’m sure I would have seen a removal van drive down Foregate Street.”
”Let’s go and welcome them now,” Evelyn said. “We need to welcome them into the creative Splitafields community as soon as possible.”
Marcus looked at Evelyn for a moment before taking a sip of his tea. “Wouldn’t it be best if we let them settle in first?”
”By the sounds of things, they’ve already settled in,” Evelyn said. “The children were running around and their parents were rushing after them.”
”Have you spoken to them?” Marcus asked. “Do you know who they are?”
”No,” Evelyn said. “I just heard them from behind the wall.”
Marcus finished the dregs of his tea and leapt out of his seat.
”Right,” he said. “Let’s go and have a look.”
Marcus and Evelyn observed the house next door to theirs.
”The for sale sign is still up,” Marcus said. “Bit odd if a family has just moved in, don’t you think?”
”They probably haven’t had time to take it down,” Evelyn said.
“Well, yes. But also, shouldn’t it be a sold sign if someone bought it?” Marcus said.
Evelyn looked at Marcus for a moment. “Let’s just make ourselves known, shall we?”
Evelyn walked up to the front door and knocked on it.
Silence. No one went to open the door.
“I don’t think anyone lives there, Eve,” Marcus said.
“They might not have heard the doorbell,” Evelyn said.
Evelyn rang the doorbell again. Nothing.
She frantically knocked on the door as if there was an emergency rather than because she wanted to welcome the occupants to the area.
“Accept it, Eve, there’s no one there,” Marcus said.
Evelyn walked back to her husband.
”They must have gone out,” Evelyn said.
Just then, Mr Severs, Evelyn and Marcus’ eccentric neighbour from across the road, walked past them.
“It’s no use ringing that doorbell,” Mr Severs said. “no one’s going to open the door. It’s been empty for months.”
”A family has just moved in,” Evelyn said, “I heard them.”
Marcus glanced through the window of the house.
”It’s empty, Eve.” Marcus said. “As in, there isn’t even any furniture in there.”
Evelyn looked through the window.
“They probably haven’t had time to furnish it,” Evelyn said. “They may be buying furniture in Splitafield’s market.”
Marcus sighed.
“Eve, I think you just imaged it,” Marcus said.
”But I did hear a family from behind the wall in my study,” Evelyn said, “I’m sure of it.”
”It’s funny you should say that,” Mr Severs said, “a family of Huguenot silk weavers lived there in the 1780s before they were massacred by the Splitafield’s Ripper. It’s why no one’s bought the place, no one wants to live in the sight of a murder.”
Without elaborating, Mr Severs walked off down the road, further into London.
Evelyn and Marcus looked at him before exchanging glances at each other.
Later that night, Evelyn and Marcus sat up in bed in their candlelit bedroom.
All they could hear were the sounds of the London nightlife outside.
“It couldn’t have been,” Evelyn said. “Ghosts don’t exist. It’s not just Ben who thinks that.”
“Says the woman who’s seen a nun, old man, and headless man roam the garden of her aunt and uncle’s house; the most haunted building in the world,” Marcus said.
“They’re just actors,” Evelyn said. “People who know the house’s reputation and want to have some fun.”
“Have either Cress of Duncan seen these people?” Marcus said.
“No,” Evelyn said. “Every time I bring up the subject, they accuse me of being one of those nutters who think it’s haunted.”
“There we go,” Marcus said. “If only you have experienced these things, then they must be ghosts.”
“Either that or I have a hyperactive imagination,” Evelyn said.
Marcus glanced at the clock. It was getting late.
“Let’s put this off until the morning, shall we?” Marcus said, before bidding his wife goodnight and blowing out the candles.
As they lay in bed in total darkness, both of them heard the sound of someone playing Fur Elise on the piano through the wall.
”Ok, I can hear that,” Marcus said.
”Did you see a piano in the house?” Evelyn said.
”No, but it could be in another room,” Marcus said.
“So you think there’s a chance that there are people living there?” Evelyn said.
“No, but there could still be a piano, or there used to be,” Marcus said.
“There are possibly squatter’s living next door,” Evelyn said.
The piano stopped, and a deathly silence filled the room.
”I’ll look into it tomorrow morning,” Marcus said. “Goodnight.”
Evelyn and Marcus then fell into a deep sleep, trying their best to ignore the sounds coming from next door.
The Robinsonverse 