room last night. She said she used to live in this house a long time ago, and she wants to be my friend.”
“Oh!” Charlotte said as she tried to hide the shiver that ran up her spine.
“And this used to be her room too. But Samantha said it was never as nice as it is now. Her mommy didn’t let her have any toys. Why would her mommy not let her have any toys?” Becky asked innocently.
“I’m not sure, Honey. How did you find out so much about Samantha?”
“She told me all about it last night after I went to bed. She said she was trying to be a big girl and not to cry, but I think she’s very sad because she couldn’t stop herself. I told her everything was going to be okay, but I don’t think she believed me. She was still crying when I fell asleep.
“She says that she’s afraid that you’re going to be mean to me, just like her mommy. I told her that you’re always nice to me and that I love you.”
“I love you too, Honey,” Charlotte said as she scooped her daughter into her arms and held her tight.
Charlotte was shocked. Becky sounded so sincere but where on earth did she come up with such a story? Possibly, Charlotte thought, this imaginary friend was her way of dealing with sleeping alone in her new room. Unsure of the best way to approach this situation, Charlotte opted for the easy way out and decided that maybe if she just ignored this Samantha thing, than eventually Becky would just forget all about it.
After a supper of macaroni and cheese, Becky’s all-time favourite meal, Charlotte went up to see if she could find the draft in Becky’s room. “What are you doing Mommy?” Becky asked curiously as her mother felt along each of the window frames.
“I’m looking for cold air coming in through your window. Did you not feel the cold draft last night?”
“Just when Samantha was here,” Becky answered. “I’m not sure why but every time she visits I feel cold.”
Charlotte wasn’t sure what to make of this response, so she decided to stick with her original plan of ignoring the whole Samantha situation. “Well I’ll put an extra blanket on your bed tonight just in case you get cold. It’s almost bedtime, why don’t you get into your pajamas and I’ll be back to tuck you in.”
“Okay,” Becky said as she went through her drawer looking for her favourite flannel pajamas.
Charlotte went to her own room to get ready for bed. Although her window had remained open all day, the scent of perfume was almost overpowering. But it would be a chilly night, and she knew that she could deal with the scent far more easily than she could the cold. While closing her window she happened to notice that the pillows were missing from her bed. They had been there in the morning when she’d made the bed so they couldn’t have gone too far. Becky must have been playing with them when she was in the room earlier, she thought.
“Becky, do you know what happened to my pillows?”Charlotte asked while she was tucking her daughter in for the night.
“Samantha says I shouldn’t tell you that she hid them in your closet.”
“Oh! And why aren’t you supposed to tell me?”
“She’s afraid you’re still mad and may try to hurt me with the pillows.”
Shocked by Becky’s comments she said, “Honey, you know I would never hurt you, and I’m not mad anymore. I’m sorry if I scared you today, I was just a little upset about my perfume.”
“I know,” Becky said as she climbed into bed. “Mommy, can you tuck me in real tight?”
“Sure Honey.” Charlotte said, as she tucked her daughter in and made sure her doll was tucked in as well.
“See you later Alligator,” Becky said as Charlotte headed for the door.
“In a while Crocodile. Sleep tight.”
Back in her room, Charlotte found the pillows hidden away in the back of her closet. Why on earth would her daughter make up such a story? It was very much unlike her to carry on this way. Charlotte was beginning to wonder if the move was having a greater effect on her daughter than she had at first thought. Maybe she should move Becky in with her for a while, at least until she got over this Samantha thing.
Two things happened that night which made Charlotte rethink the Samantha situation. First, at approximately one a.m. Charlotte was awakened by a sudden chill in the room. Still half asleep, and thinking that she must have left the window open, she rolled over and caught a brief glimpse of a blonde-haired girl, in a white nightgown, standing in front of the dresser brushing her hair. She blinked and sat bolt upright in bed only to find that there was no longer a chill in the room, nor a little girl standing by her dresser.
Thinking she must have been dreaming, Charlotte tried to go back to sleep but it didn’t come easy, and it was close to two hours before she finally started to drift off again. But a deep sleep wasn’t meant to be, as she was once again wakened by the sound of crying from down the hall. She headed to her daughter’s room, determined that this time she wasn’t going to give Becky the option of staying in her room by herself.
Once again, Charlotte noticed a chill as she entered Becky’s room. She was surprised that at first glance, Becky appeared to be fast asleep and still snugly tucked in her bed. As she crossed the room to check more closely on her daughter, she noticed something on the floor beside the bed. Expecting to find a misplaced toy, she was shocked when she bent down to find her hair brush lying on the floor. What was more shocking was that she had used that very brush after tucking Becky in, and just before she herself had gone to bed. There was absolutely no way Becky could have gotten out of bed, taken the brush, and then tucked herself back in so well. So then, how did her hair brush get from her dresser to Becky’s floor?
Many questions plagued Charlotte’s mind as she lay sleepless in her bed for the rest of the night.
Had she been dreaming earlier when she saw the little girl in her room?
Who was this Samantha that Becky had so adamantly claimed was her new friend?
Could Becky have been telling the truth about not being responsible for some of the weird things that had been happening around the house?
For her own sanity she had to find the answers to these questions.
The next morning she woke Becky up around eight o’clock. “Hey Sleepy Head, are you going to sleep all day?”
“Hi, Mommy,” Becky said as she wiped the sleep away from her eyes.
“How did you sleep?”
“I slept good, Mommy. I had this dream that I was a fairy princess.”
“Did you get up at all last night?” Charlotte asked, trying to sound nonchalant.
“No, I slept all night, I love my room sooo much.”
That was all that Charlotte needed to hear. She decided that she was going to need some time alone this morning to try and figure out what was happening around their new home. “How would you like to go visit Grandma for a few hours today?” she asked.
“Can we make cookies?” Becky asked excitedly.
“That will be up to Grandma. Now come on, let’s get you up and dressed.”
“Can I bring some cookies back for Samantha? I think that would make her happy,” Becky said, sounding very sincere about making her new friend feel better.
“We’ll see, Honey.”
While Becky got dressed, Charlotte made a quick call to her mother and asked if she could take Becky for a few hours. Her mother was always excited to see her granddaughter and had no problems looking after her for the morning. Obviously detecting something in Charlotte’s voice, her mother asked if there was anything wrong. Her reply was brief but pleasant, “I’m fine. I just have an appointment this morning.”
The library seemed likely to be the best place to start searching for a little history on their new home. So after dropping Becky off, that was the first place she went. Like the majority of homes in the small town of Milton, the library was built in the late eighteen hundreds. Constructed of large limestone blocks and oak cased windows the library perfectly fit the Victorian style neighb
ourhood. Walking up the expansive stone steps, Charlotte entered the library and headed directly to the checkout counter.
“Can I help you?” an elderly lady wearing bifocals asked from behind the counter.
“I'm not sure,” Charlotte said. “I was hoping to find some history on the house I'm living in and I'm really not sure how to go about it.”
“Whereabouts is your house, Dear?”
“I've just moved into the old Victorian house on Main Street.”
“Oh, the one that backs onto the graveyard,” she stated, as if everyone should know that house. “That's the old McDougall Estate and I think you may have come to the right place. We really don't have anything to track individual houses but we do have a book on the general history of Milton. And as luck would have it, one of the gentlemen who worked on the book volunteers here at the library. I believe he's here today, so why don't you wait here and I'll take a look around for him.”
“Thank you very much,” Charlotte said, as the librarian headed off towards a large rack of books. She had no idea what she was going to ask this gentleman but she hoped that somehow he might be able to shed some light on what was happening with Becky’s strange behaviour and the mysterious events that had been taking place around the house.
Within only a couple of minutes the librarian returned with an elderly gentleman in tow. From Charlotte’s best guess she figured that the gentleman was in his late eighties or early nineties. He walked