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Most people use their phones for notes. Maggie was old-fashioned enough to still use a notepad and pen. She deftly made a list of cleaning items and checked against the internet to ensure they wouldn’t damage the delicate wood and decorations. Maggie didn’t want to use harsh bleach on old wood and suck the stain out of something or worse. Diligently, she researched what could be used on old leather, brass, etc. The glee she experienced when she entered the inn for the first time hadn’t faded and had grown as she discovered treasure.
A vehicle arriving snapped her from her concentration, and Maggie bounced outside to meet the architect. A man was climbing from the car, shaking his head, and Maggie paused as she met him on the doorstep.
“Miss Winn?” he asked, swallowing hard.
“Hi, you must be Andy,” Maggie replied, smiling.
“Yes, although I’m afraid I won’t be working with you on this project,” Andy stated firmly.
“What? But your receptionist said you were free!” Maggie exclaimed.
“Unfortunately, my office didn’t realise it was the Jekyll and Hyde Inn. I’m sorry.”
“You’re kidding me, right?” Maggie gasped, unamused.
“Miss Winn, can I call you Maggie?”
She nodded, and he continued, “The Jekyll and Hyde is well known around the area for being highly haunted. No local will ever work here, Maggie,” Andy explained firmly. He turned and dashed back to the vehicle, tossing a warning over his shoulder. “I’m sorry, but please, leave before harm finds you. This building is cursed and surrounded by evil. I beg you to heed my advice and go. I’d hate to hear your body is the next one discovered here.” Andy climbed into his car and left.
“What the ever-loving hell?” Maggie wondered and gazed at the beautiful inn everyone wanted to avoid. Angrily growling under her breath, Maggie stomped back inside the Inn to finish making her lists. Fine! She’d find an out-of-town architect then! So much for helping the local economy!
Later that night, Maggie sat in the generic hotel room she’d rented for two weeks. Maggie intended to get the Jekyll and Hyde clean before moving in. Apart from a few suitcases of clothes, all her belongings were in storage, and she’d booked to stay here while making the inn habitable. Maggie opened her laptop, typed in the Jekyll and Hyde legend, and waited for results to pop up. Her eyes widened as she saw a list of sites dedicated to her inn and clicked on the first, a local site and settled in to read. She’d been so excited about finding the place; researching its history had been the last thing on her mind before buying.
An hour later, Maggie was shaking her head in disbelief. She rose from the bed and made herself a coffee before sitting back and staring at her notebook. There were several legends, but basically, they amounted to one story. In the early 1700s, the inn belonged to Lord Lucian Norton. On a visit, he had disappeared alongside a local woman, Margery. Margery had been shunned by the villages and towns for her knowledge of herb craft and had been called a witch.
There had been several tales of her evilness, including youngsters disappearing. And her skills at seducing any man, married or not, appeared legendary. Unfortunately, this led to the villagers and townspeople driving her from her home, where a dozen bodies of young children had been discovered. They were buried in the local village nearest the inn, Hollyhock. No one knows precisely what happened, but Lord Lucian and Margery both disappeared on the same day, and then the hauntings of the Jekyll and Hyde began. People believed to have seen Lucian during the daytime. While others claimed to pass the Jekyll and Hyde at night and see an eerie green glow and Margery passing the windows.
Maggie was horrified to learn how many hands the inn had passed through, nobody holding the Jekyll and Hyde past six weeks. And it had stood empty ever since the 1750s. It had brief openings but was shortly closed as owners fled. That was why everything remained original. No one had stayed long enough to complete repairs, decorating, or cleaning. It was a miracle electricity and running water had ever been installed. However, Maggie knew that they still desperately needed updating.
Shaking her head at how superstitions could dramatise circumstances, Maggie shut the laptop. She did not believe in ghosts and thought people were jumping at shadows and their own imagination. The locals, who clearly had issues with the pretty inn, added to the paranoia. Maggie had never been a quitter and refused to learn the meaning of the word now. She still had the bulk of the lottery win left, even after treating her closest friends and buying the inns.
Generous to a fault, Maggie had given them the money to buy the inns in their own names. She had no claim on them whatsoever. And she’d set up a substantial allowance for each of her mates to repair and restore their precious purchase. This had been their dream since they’d visited the Jamaica Inn in Launceston, Cornwall. They had fallen in love with the book by Daphne De Maurier and then the inn itself. The six of them had become obsessed with owning their own period inn one day.
The original plan had been for them to all buy one together and then use the profits to invest in others over the intervening years. Instead, a sheer stroke of luck had allowed them to move forward without pausing. Maggie had looked at the Jekyll and Hyde online listing and gone head over heels for it. Without even viewing inside, Maggie had bought it and was so excited about owning a period inn. Nothing was going to force her from her lovely inn. Not even stupid rumours.
???
Maggie shoved the inn’s door and wedged it open. To her surprise, on arrival today, all the shutters covering the windows had been closed, so she opened them before entering. It was already ten in the morning, but Maggie wasn’t too bothered. She’d woken at seven and been at the local supermarket at eight to buy the cleaning supplies she needed. Her back seat and trunk were full of items, and Maggie wriggled in excitement. As she had packed them at the checkout, she’d boxed them according to needs. So, the first box she pulled out contained black bags, two feather dusters, cloths, and window cleaner to wash the grimy glass and let sunlight in.
Whistling and placing her phone and Bluetooth speaker on a table, Maggie got to work in the area nearest to Margery’s portrait. Maggie wanted this part clean, so she didn’t dread doing it. By twelve, Maggie had cleared all cobwebs, scrubbed the mantel, and carefully cleaned each diamond pane in the windows, inside and out. Tiredly stretching out her back, Maggie regarded the section with pride. Although the tables and floor were still dusty, the rest gleamed with her hard work and sweat.
Maggie walked out to her car and picked up the lunch she’d brought with her. Biting into the sandwich, Maggie stiffened as she thought she saw a face staring at her from the newly cleaned window. She blinked, and the image was gone. Quietly giggling, Maggie chided herself for allowing the stories from last night to rattle her. She ate quickly, tidied her rubbish away, strode back into the inn, and paused.
Her cleaning supplies weren’t where she left them. Maggie frowned as she glanced around before checking under the tables and chairs in the section she’d just cleaned. Puzzled, Maggie scratched her chin and began searching the rest of the building, finally finding them crammed on a shelf behind the bar. Befuddled and shaking her head, Maggie pulled them out and tutted. She must have shoved them there without realising.
Maggie continued working for a few more hours, cleaning the area to the left of the fireplace where there were discretely hidden toilets. She dreaded looking inside them and left them for another day. Then Maggie moved on to the middle section in between the doors. This took her to six in the evening, but by the time she’d finished, Maggie was more than impressed with her efforts. Maggie started putting the supplies away when she noticed eyes drilling into her. Shivers ran down her spine, and she spun quickly and just caught a glimpse of a figure fading.
I don’t believe in ghosts, was the first thought that crossed Maggie’s mind, followed by, had I really just seen that? Maggie peered at the spot at the far end of the bar and finally decided that shifting shadows from the overgrown foliage outside had been to blame. Packing everything neatly away, Maggie stepped outside and locked the inn up securely before getting into her car and driving off.
???
The next day Maggie glared, puzzled, as once again all the windows in the inn were shuttered, including the ones upstairs. Someone was trying to scare her into believing the inn was haunted or playing pranks. With a scowl, Maggie opened the door and stormed into the inn. This was her new home. She refused point blank to be scared away. She yanked the shutters open and then unlocked the main entrance. The scent of lavender drifted towards her, and she smiled as it mixed with the fresh smell of lemons that her cleaning solutions contained.
Today, she planned to clean Lucian’s end and the section behind that. That meant the entire floor was washed apart from the tables, chairs, and bar. All shelves and ornaments were cleaned as she went. She dusted around Lucian’s fireplace and the seating area before her gaze was drawn to the portrait.
“You really were a gorgeous creature, weren’t you?” Maggie whispered. A slight breeze ruffled her neck, and she jumped and glanced around. Maggie decided it must have come from the open doors before returning her stare to Lucian.
“Where are men like you nowadays? All they do is wear their jeans around their bums, leaving their boxer shorts hanging out. They are vain and rude, oafish, and stupid. They think burps and farts are hysterical and do not know how to truly treat a lady.” Maggie sighed and pulled out a chair. She sat down and drew one knee up.
