Prologue
Lord Backwater cleared his throat and raised his glass of red wine, the others that sat round the rectangle Oak table fell silent and waited expectantly. “Here’s to…” his deep rich voice trailed off as the lights in the dining room flickered.
The Backwater’s guests looked around with confusion. “Probably just the fuse box,” Lord Backwater mused trying to keep the edge from his own voice. “It is old, like everything else in this house.” He added under his breath.
“I’ll fetch the candles just in case.” Mrs Backwater said wiping her mouth on the white napkin before getting to her feet. The lights gave up altogether plunging the house into utter darkness.
“Oh bloody hell…” The Lord cursed, his breath turned to white fog the minute it left the warmness of his mouth.
“It’s…freezing…” Lucy Backwater chattered hugging her bare arms as the dining room turned into the North Pole. Frost crawled up the window panes and the Lord cursed his luck, the boiler must have finally packed in.
“My Lord…?” Eliza the housekeeper came in carrying a single lit candle that had been shoved into an empty beer bottle, multiple layers of wax were crusted around the bottle opening, illustrating how frequently the ancient wiring failed.
“It’s fine Eliza, hand me the candle I’ll go fetch some more from the pantry.” Lord Backwater stumbled across the carpeted floor to the old housekeeper.
“So much for the nice homecoming dinner you promised us.” Laura Backwater snipped letting her fork clatter onto the full plate of food in front of her.
“Do give it a rest Laura.” Mrs Backwater sighed tiredly. “We hardly need your sarcastic comments.” Laura threw her mother a sharp hateful glance that thankfully Mrs Backwater couldn’t see in the gloom.
Eliza handed over the candle, the lights flashed suddenly then returned. They all let out a cheer as the darkness and cold soaked away. The first thing Lord Backwater did was check on his father who had kept quiet throughout the whole fright. In fact the old man hardly talked at all anymore though he was perfectly capable of it.
He was sitting at the table next to Lucy in his wheelchair with a wool blanket over his lap; he looked as distant as ever. “Well there seems to be no harm done,” Lord Backwater said returning to his seat at the head of the table, “let’s carry on with the evening shall we? That will be all Eliza.”
The whole family froze with sheer terror as an old man dressed in a tailored but outdated suit appeared in the middle of the dining room. He had materialized out of nowhere and Lord Backwater nearly had a heart attack. The mysterious stranger pointed at his father and spoke with a trembling voice. “She’s coming. She’s coming for you…”