The Harmful Heirloom by Elgin's Steve Storey
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A tale of possession in three parts by Steve Storey, who lives in Elgin.
Prologue
Aunt Judith – may God keep safe her soul – was born into this world in the 1880’s. She suffered the loss of her husband, Captain William, to the guns and mud of the Great War, and lived thereafter a recluse – one I came to know as a quietly independent woman.
Alone, Judith passed away in the late spring of 1934 at the age of only fifty-three. The sweet smell of blossom from her beloved cherry orchard had become a fading memory that day she fell asleep. However, if God is truly in His Heaven, then she – reunited with her treasured William – will walk arm in arm in the peace of the garden of Paradise. There to live in eternal springtime, with the fragrant blossom of the cherry trees ever present.
‘Her hour-glass stands empty; Her days of life are run.’
[The diary entry of Robert Charters made Wednesday 23rd May, 1934:
That day given over to his aunt Judith’s interment.]
Part 1
A plea for help
The young man Robert Charters, ungroomed and dishevelled, stood on the fast disintegrating edge of insanity’s dark chasm.
He had attempted over many days to compose a desperate letter to his favoured aunt requesting her assistance; but his turbulent mind and random thoughts had thwarted every effort.
Crumpled and torn notepaper, half written before being aggressively scored-through and discarded, littered the floor of his apartment.
It was only then that the dark phantom responsible for his cruel possession permitted a short respite from turmoil, such that Robert was able to finally summon the meagre strength of mind to scribe his anguished communication:
Sunday 10th February, 1935
DEAREST AUNT MARTHA,
I write in a state of dreadful anxiety. Reason and Intuition have been bound and closeted away by a dark shadow, both seen and unseen, that has plagued my life since you and I met in Cambridge last year.
It was on that same day the name of this bitter phantom first met my ears; a name – and since – a cold lingering presence that have remained close at hand, leaving me a pariah from proper living.
I beg you aunt Martha, to please travel to my London abode in all hast, and once ensconced apply the calming balm of your presence to relieve my troubled situation.
Your Nephew
Robert Charters
As was his usual practice, Robert left an envelope containing his desperate letter – with sufficient money to cover postage – for the apartments’ cooperative concierge to kindly mail on his behalf.
Part 2
Cambridge: Tuesday 16th October, 1934
The elegant Martha Jacques accompanied by her nephew Robert Charters were shown to the neatly set dining table positioned in the corner of the Station Hotel’s restaurant.
The pair had spent the late morning at the dowdy offices of solicitors Barton, Avery & Co., the appointed executors for the reading of the will of Robert’s aunt Judith – Martha’s sister, and at Martha’s insistence the two lunched before he made the return journey to his London home.
Judith’s whole estate had been bequeathed to her sister Martha, with the exception of a silver double hunter pocket watch with chain that would be passed to Robert once the solicitors had concluded their business.
Following small talk and a light salad, and whilst awaiting pots of tea, Martha brought their discussions around to the intended subject of her pre-planned lunch:
MARTHA: "Now Robert, the fine pocket watch; tell me what you know of it."
ROBERT: "Well, very little I’m sorry to say. Strangely mother – usually that font of all things relating to this family – could rarely be enticed to speak of it. I do know that it was given to grandfather Joseph who worked on the railway by a grateful Admiral after he averted a disaster befalling the Royal Train during the Great War.
"Grandfather treasured the watch, and was said to never be seen in public without the piece – right up until his untimely death, when struck a glancing blow from a goods wagon in the railway sidings at Dalmore in the early ‘20’s. I’m afraid to say, dear aunt, that that is the extent of my knowledge."
The pots of tea arrived and Robert poured as Martha continued:
MARTHA: "What you have said is indeed accurate; but Robert believe me, there is more – so, so much more.
"Please allow me to elaborate: The ‘Euston to Thurso Naval Special’ transported service personnel on a miserable 22-hour journey that traversed the length of Britain’s railway system during the latter part of the Great War.
"The ‘Special’ was widely known as the ‘Jellicoe Express’ – so named after the First Sea Lord, Admiral Sir John Jellicoe.
"Stops were few, scheduled to take on water for the double locomotive, to allow personnel to embark and disembark or for breakfast to be served.
"Importantly, the train would pass through Alness about 20 miles north of Inverness, and it was here that Joseph served as Station Master throughout the war.
"Your grandfather’s life would have been largely undistinguished but for one event which occurred during the Autumn of 1917.
"King George had travelled to Invergordon aboard the Royal Train to visit the naval base and make an inspection of the substantial wartime docks.
"His return journey south meant he had to take the single track line towards Alness. For security reasons, only a few selected railway and military personnel were informed of the Royal visit and its exacting schedule – one such individual was the Station Master at Alness.
"The ‘Special’ had arrived and stopped at his station in good time for water to be taken on and tea distributed to the 400 or so passengers.
"Usually this halt would have been made at Dingwall, but on this occasion Alness had been scheduled – modified to take account of the Royal Train’s movements.
"Departure of the ‘Special’ on up the line towards Thurso was deliberately delayed as Joseph knew the King’s train was at that time coming down the same line.
"Now, it seems that a Lieutenant, an aide to the Divisional Transport Officer, who was a passenger travelling the ‘Special’ took exception to the extended stop.
"He approached Joseph and demanded the Station Master release the train in order to meet the planned timetable. It was clear apparent that the Lieutenant was not privy to the circumstances of the delay and Joseph was not about to enlighten him.
"This outcome resulted in the infuriated junior officer repeatedly striking your poor grandfather with his swagger stick, demanding the train proceed, but Joseph held firm. Thankfully Military Policemen arrived – just as the Lieutenant menacingly drew his service revolver – and quickly quelled the confrontation before escorting the irate soldier back to the officers’ sleeping carriage.
"A short while later the Royal Train sped through the station, which allowed Joseph to finally release the ‘Special’ to continue northward.
"Incidents thought to have a negative impact on public morale and security were regularly hushed up during the war – and, as this particular case involved none other than the King, only a select few were advised.
"One to receive notification was the First Sea Lord who realised the importance of Joseph’s actions in safeguarding not only his Royal Personage but his own good name and reputation which, at the time, were under serious scrutiny. Jellicoe was to write a personal letter to the Alness Station Master in November 1917.
"Sadly, the fate of this letter is unknown, but it was a precursor to a personal gift Joseph received mid-1919. This gift was, of course, the pocket watch.
"Produced by the makers W. Bryer & Sons – who were renown suppliers of watches to the admiralty, the attractive double hunter silver timepiece featured two backs; the inner being engraved with a personalised message from a grateful Jellicoe:
To the Alness Station Master Joseph Francis Jacques
Given with gratitude
For his valued service to both King and Empire
During the testing days of the Great War
Admiral of the Fleet John R Jellicoe (1919)
"Following Joseph’s unfortunate death his belongings became the property of his wife – all, that is, with the exception of the pocket watch which he had long promised to your aunt Judith.
"Now Robert, as I have said, there is more to this story that I need to tell. But first, I have to ask; have you ever seen – or importantly touched or held this pocket watch?"
ROBERT: "Well, I do remember seeing it once on a visit to aunt Judith’s cottage.
"I had wandered into her darkened library as she and mother talked in the kitchen, and remember a glass fronted cabinet in the corner of the room which, if I recall correctly, contained nothing but the timepiece.
"I only caught a fleeting glimpse of it, as Judith then entered the library and quickly hurried me from the room."
MARTHA: "Yes, Judith was very particular about who came in contact with this watch. She had good reason!
"Let me tell you a little about Judith: Having lost her husband, Captain William, to the anger and squalor of the Somme, Judith, without a body to mourn or a grave to tend sought solitude and hope – as did so many women of her generation – as a member of the spiritualist movement.
"From the early ‘20’s, she regularly attended séance gatherings in the hope of making contact with her beloved William and, if I remember correctly, had a heart-shaped wooden planchette, which she believed would aid the receipt of any psychically written message.
"I cannot say for sure if she did ever manage to reach William, but I do know that not too long after she became involved in the movement her regular spiritual guide was ‘ousted and replaced’.
"Judith once told me that this second guide was in life a notorious highwayman – hanged for his crimes – who went by the name of Alasdair McMurdo.
"It was during the late 1920’s when it became apparent that the sinister influence of this McMurdo character was growing.
"He had suggested to Judith that they could use the prized pocket watch as a means by which they might first contact Joseph, and through him her Captain William. Robert, are you aware of the term, ‘Psychometry’?"
ROBERT: "A little. I believe it connected to psychic ability and the theory of a sixth sense.
MARTHA: "Well, yes. There is a school of thought that it is possible to form a psychic connection with the owner of an inanimate object simply by touching it.
"Although I am uncertain if McMurdo did ever manage to unite Judith with Joseph or her William, I do know that over time his influence and ability to manipulate Judith dramatically increased."
ROBERT: "I didn’t mention this earlier, but when I stood in aunt Judith’s library and spied the pocket watch in the cabinet, I was aware of a shadowy figure watching from a dark recess, who I assumed at the time must be a guest of the house.
"I am sure Judith also saw the figure – for it was at that same moment she, agitated, escorted me from the room, telling me ‘never to go into the library without her being present'."
MARTHA: "Yes, that was likely McMurdo watching – as Judith told me he often did.
"Robert, I am convinced that the scheming and malevolent McMurdo has only bad intentions – possibly hoping to reap havoc upon the living world in vengeance for his own demise.
"I believe Judith’s mind was near wholly influenced by this spirit and that he drove her to an early death. I fear that the pocket watch has become a conduit for his evil and that he next intends to control you dear boy!
"So I implore you Robert, have nothing to do with this inheritance; never handle the watch – in fact, put distance between it and yourself – and do your utmost not to contemplate too often upon it.
"Now, time is getting on, and you have a train to catch back to London. I will accompany you to the station, and there take my leave.
"But first I must reiterate my concerns: Please Robert, be very careful.
Part 3
A Return to London and Ensuing Turmoil
Sat in an empty compartment of a corridor passenger coach, Robert, like most rail travellers relaxed to the rhythmic sound of the steel wheels as they ran across the track joints.
As the LNER express sped on, he began to mull over the warning issued by his aunt. Could there really be truth in her words? Was such a thing as a malevolent spirit possibly responsible for the sad early death of Judith?
On arrival at King’s Cross, Robert took the a double-decker tram to the Gray’s Inn Road Holborn Terminus before walking the short distance to his apartment. He was warmly greeted at the blocks entrance by the smartly uniformed concierge before taking the elevator to his third floor apartment.
It had been a long day, and having downed a large dram of a single malt, he kicked off his shoes and settled on his couch before quickly falling into a deep sleep.
On waking, he found the sun had gone down and the room was bathed in a pinkish twilight. He glanced across at his mantle clock – only to find the pendulum at rest.
Checking his watch, and subsequently the other timepieces about his home, Robert discovered they had all strangely stopped without obvious cause – each at precisely 6.10pm; a time that, unknown to him, matched the exact moment of Judith’s passing that May day five months previous.
The coming days witnessed growing alarm as Robert experienced shadowed movements about his apartment; a constant sense of being watched; and his night-time sleep troubled by a gravelled voice calling out his name.
In early January of the new year a package arrived from the Cambridge solicitors – it contained the pocket watch.
The previous November Robert requested the firm sell the timepiece on his behalf, before sending on the presumed monies raised.
The solicitors had tried hard to auction the watch – as they would have benefited from a commission payable for their efforts; but their attempts were unsuccessful.
Keen to then conclude their dealings in the matter of Judith’s estate, they chose instead to send the pocket watch to Robert with a letter of apology and a bill showing a breakdown of their costs – the sum of which they had already deducted from the estate – also sent to Judith’s main beneficiary, her sister Martha.
The arrival of the sinister timepiece coincided with an escalation in Robert’s torment. As he began to mentally unravel, Robert tried hard to put distance between himself and the watch: He left it on Public Transport; buried the piece; took a hammer to it; burnt and deposited the damaged parts in the Thames at Limehouse – but his every effort was to fail, as each subsequent morning the watch would be found mysteriously placed in his apartment pigeon-hole mail box.
Eventually, in early February 1935, a broken Robert wrote a desperate letter to his aunt Martha begging her to come to his aid.
It was a full week after having taken receipt of her nephew’s disturbed letter that a relaxed Martha made her leisurely journey to London, accompanied with naught but a small suitcase packed for a stay of just a couple of days. On arrival at Robert’s stylish apartment block Martha feign surprise as she encountered a pair of policemen standing guard at the entrance to the main foyer. It transpired that a body had been discovered in Robert’s third floor apartment.
There, in the kitchen, slumped against the larder door, the deceased was found with a throat ligature tied to the door handle. The concierge confirmed the body was indeed that of poor Robert Charters.
It had been the block’s concierge who raised the alarm. He had endeavoured on numerous occasions over preceding days to contact Robert, to confirm the mailing of his letter to Martha and return his change from the cost of postage. On the previous morning, when he had called at the apartment, he became aware of the smell of decomposition – rightly, a repugnant odour to him, he first encountered in the wretched trenches of the Great War, and the memory of which he was never to forget. The concierge immediately contacted the police who on forcibly entering the apartment discovered the dead man.
An initial investigation of the crime scene identified a suicide note placed upon the kitchen table, accompanied by the wrecked parts of a pocket watch wrapped in plain paper. Martha was able to confirm the note’s handwriting was indeed a match for Robert’s own. Identification of a strange erratic scrawl beneath Robert’s signed name continued to bewilder the investigators. Martha, however, could make it out to read ‘McMurdo’, but chose to keep this information from the authorities – as also her knowledge of the significance of the wrecked pocket watch.
Epilogue
At the very hour the inquest coroner reported that Robert Charters death resulted from an act of ‘Self Murder’ by ligature strangulation, Martha Jacques took occupancy of ‘Cherry Cottage’. Under the close scrutiny of the scheming phantom McMurdo, she immediately sought out the glass fronted walnut cabinet in the library, into which she placed two objects: The first was the engraved, but blackened and grossly deformed, inner back case of the silver double hunter pocket watch – once the possession of a proud Alness Station Master – which Martha had surreptitiously removed while present at Robert’s apartment with the police investigators. The second was a military swagger stick.
Martha could not recall either how or when she had acquired the item, but was able to confirm the stick’s former owner. The engraved brass top clearly stated the army regiment, along with the rank and name of its original owner; one ‘Lieutenant Alasdair McMurdo’, a serving junior officer lost to the Great War, who had himself travelled the ‘Jellicoe Express’ in the late October days of 1917.
THE END
Copyright © 2021 [Stephen Storey]. All Rights Reserved.
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