The Woman In Black by Susan Hill

for fear of encountering what I have already encountered.’
    There was absolute silence. Mr Jerome’shands continued to scrabble about like the paws of some struggling creature. His pale domed forehead was beaded with perspiration. Eventually he got up, almostknocking over his chair as he did so, and went over to the narrow window to look out through the dirty pane onto the houses opposite and down into the quiet lane below. Then, with his back to me, he said at last, ‘Keckwick came back foryou.’
    ‘Yes. I was more grateful than I can say.’
    ‘There’s nothing Keckwick doesn’t know about Eel Marsh House.’
    ‘Do I take it he fetched and carried sometimes for Mrs Drablow?’
    He nodded. ‘She saw no one else. Not –’ his voice trailed away.
    ‘Not another living soul,’ I put in evenly.
    When he spoke again he sounded husky and tired. ‘There are stories,’ he said, ‘tales. There’s all that nonsense.’

    ‘I can believe it. Such a place would breed marsh monsters and creatures of the deep and Jack o’ Lanterns by the cart-load.’
    ‘You can discount most of it.’
    ‘Of course. But not all.’
    ‘You saw that woman in the churchyard.’
    ‘I saw her again. I went for a walk all around the ground Eel Marsh House stands on, after Keckwick had left me yesterday afternoon. She was in that old burial ground. Whatare the ruins – some church or chapel?’
    ‘There was once a monastery on that island – long before the house was ever built. Some small community that cut itself off from the rest of the world. There are records of it in the county histories. It was abandoned, left to decay – oh, centuries ago.’
    ‘And the burial ground?’
    ‘There was … some later use. A few graves.’
    ‘The Drablows?’
    He turned suddenlyto face me. There was a sickly greyish pallor over his skin now and I realized how seriously he was affected by our conversation and that he would probably prefer not to continue. I had to make my arrangements but I decided, at that moment, to abandon the attempt to work with Mr Jerome and to telephone instead, directly to Mr Bentley in London. For that purpose, I would return to the hotel.
    ‘Well,’ I said, ‘I’m not going to be put out by a ghost or several ghosts, Mr Jerome. It was unpleasant and I confess that I shall be glad when I have found a companion to share my work out at the house. But it will have to be done. And I doubt if the woman in black can have any animosity towards me . I wonder who she was? Is? ’ I laughed though it came out sounding quite false into the room. ‘Ihardly know how to refer to her!’
    I was trying to make light of something that weboth knew was gravely serious, trying to dismiss as insignificant, and perhaps even non-existent, something that affected us both as deeply as any other experience we had undergone in our lives, for it took us to the very edge of the horizon where life and death meet together. ‘I must face it out, Mr Jerome. Suchthings one must face.’ And even as I spoke I felt a new determination arise within me.
    ‘So I said.’ Mr Jerome was looking at me pityingly. ‘So I said … once.’
    But his fear was only serving to strengthen my resolve. He had been weakened and broken, by what? A woman? A few noises? Or was there more that I should discover for myself? I knew that, if I asked him, he would refuse to answer and, inany case, I was uncertain whether I wanted to be filled up with all these frightening and weird tales of the nervous Mr Jerome’s past experiences at Eel Marsh House. I decided that, if I were to get to the truth of the business, I should have to rely upon the evidence of my own senses and nothing more. Perhaps, after all, I should do better not to have an assistant.
    I took my leave of Mr Jerome,remarking as I went that in all probability I should see nothing more of the woman or of any other peculiar visitors to the late Mrs Drablow’s house.
    ‘I pray that you do not,’ Mr Jerome