The Secret Passage

An old story about a child's birthday party. A young girl, a little boy. An old hall and a young life lost.

This is a story, that became a real story, that became real life. Somewhere between being a true story based on real events and being a real story based on true events. Many stories have the power to transport us to exciting and fascinating worlds. They teach us about love and suffering. They can be about magnificent Gods or simple insects; grand kingdoms or small villages. They describe heroism and betrayal, friends and foes, battles won and lost. Some are about our everyday lives, about family and friends, the masks we wear; the truth we hide. This story is about many things and nothing. Maybe this story has no moral. Maybe it’s just a series of events. It would be easier to judge if it wasn’t the absolute truth.

Years ago...

It’s a bright spring afternoon and the light breeze lends animation to multi coloured balloons and bunting taped outside the opening to a branch of a ‘Guard of the Tower’ restaurant. To the locals of Littleborough, Lancashire the restaurant will always be known by its proper name of Stubley Old Hall. The old hall is still a revered presence in the town nestled back from the main road between Littleborough and Rochdale. It’s old courtyard impressive even if now it accommodates a small thus busy car park for the restaurant especially on kind weather Sundays like today. The oak trees flank the perimeter of the grounds creating a green vail for the two story building but from the west facing the road the Hall was open for business. The western wall’s exterior has the restaurant’s name spelt in large golden gothic font letters. The latest incarnation of the Hall was seen as ideal for the pub restaurant chain and the building itself was in good shape whether or not it was in anyway the same shape as was in it’s youth of the early 14^th century.

The balloons were hastily added that morning above the old oak door as the restaurant was child friendly and today it was host to a local child’s 5^th birthday party. The function room on the ground floor is filled with activity. The room itself is not so distinct from the other parts of the old building just larger so better suited to contain the unpredictable drama and excitement of a large group of children. Solid wooden floors and line casement windows are a feature of almost every room. The decor is that of an old timey traditional English pub with old homespun wooden tables and chairs. There is a half a dozen or so tables in the room where the large group of children are gathered overseen by parents strategically placed around the room. The party is in full flow as children and parents alike chatting away over the background pop music coming from a stereo in the corner. The focus of most parents is the dietary requirements of their own children and ensuring their compliance in eating all their greens. The repeating of soft and hard bargaining techniques of parents to reluctant children occurs sporadically around the room like a contagious yawn. Some of the parents have soon given in and it’s apparent their choice of seat had more to do with the convenience of keeping a stimulating conversation with another parent unbroken rather than to supervise. The waiting staff are eager to please although their customer service poker face is tested in the wake of loud children and unexpected parental requests for the precious little princes and princesses. Navigating around the room with arms fully laden with plates is a skill. Especially while so many little people are obliviously darting aimlessly around the room at knee height. It adds unnecessary pressure to waiting staff trying to put on a “we love children” façade when that clearly doesn’t apply to some of them. One frustrated waitress remarks to a colleague slyly away from the party about a local pub that has banned children after a waitress was scolded by spilling soup on herself while trying to avoid children crawling around the floor of the pub.

The room is a buzz of constant noise though the rest of the ground floor is rather tranquil and relaxed. Many of the clientele are in for their Sunday roast which the restaurant prides itself on. The restaurant has a fair reputation although most customers leave happy many do not return to become loyal customers. The generic nature of restaurant chains are why some people are less likely to stay loyal as everything is so easily replicated. Some locals are of an old but firm attitude of “children should not be allowed in pubs” which plays against the pub/restaurant’s family friendly philosophy. The setting of Stubley Old Hall for this particular restaurant is the real stand out feature and quite possibly it’s main draw. The day is unremarkable, it’s a large birthday party but nothing the restaurant hasn’t handled before. The waiting staff are mainly students, mostly young girls in their first or second ever job. A few are older in their 30’s or 40’s just trying to make ends meet. Overseeing them is a restaurant manager; a woman older than the student majority of the waiting staff, but not old herself. She tries her best to be hands off but is very much used to leading her team by example; a new promotion does that to most people as old habits die hard. The party is for a little girl called Millie and most of all the children are locals made up of her class mates, barring the odd slightly older or slightly younger siblings of those invited. The parents are either close friends or people hoping to do a little networking. Conversations about late nights of old and asking for news about highly regarded friends & family members not present are as frequent as generic opening enquiries about careers and parenting anecdotes. A repeated topic of conversation today is of how few of them had ever been in Stubley Old Hall before even though they all live so close and pass by virtually every day.

The party is so proving to be a success; the children have worked through or given up on their main course the latter calling bluff on empty threats of being refused ice cream. There is hardly a moments peace but it’s decided between a few select parents it was necessary that one of them take a group of children to the toilets before the birthday cake is ceremonially brought. The mother of Millie the birthday girl gives a que to the restaurant manager to start settling the room for quiet. She is secretly hoping to reveal the quality of her baking skills to an unexpecting audience which will win her some good rep and make a few friends jealous. The waitresses come to clear the tables as the curtains are drawn to dim the room and the music is turned down. One of the mothers takes two children by the hand a beckons more to follow her if they need the toilet. As the gang leave the room while one of the children a little boy is stalled by his mum tying his shoe lace for him.

The little boy walks out of the boisterous room alone in pursuit of his friends into the relative quiet of the hallway. Walking down the hallway on his left he sees a grand staircase descending from the high ceiling parallel to the hallway. His neck fully tilted back and mouth open wide in awe. He walks forward until the height of the steps matched the height of his head; he notices the thick wooden bannister of the stairs; the dark polish of the wood to him made it look like delicious toffee. There is not a single blemish on the banister’s smooth surface; he raises his hand to touch it and moves forward allowing his fingers to glide down it’s smooth surface. He then uses his hand and then his forearm to feel the silky surface as the incline further brings the top of the bannister into reach. A thought pops into his head and the idea of following everyone to the toilet is soon forgotten. He is stood by the bottom step; he sees a chain attached to the wall at one end with the rest of it draped in a heap on the floor with a picture of a red circle on a white background. He looks up the stairs and his impulse is to get to the top. The noise of the party diminishes as he takes a moment before deciding on taking the detour and start play time early. He takes the first step and a small part of him gives him an uneasy feeling, it’s the part of him that thinks maybe he’s not allowed up there; it’s seems too quiet. The thrill of a ride down the stairs is too tempting but with every step the feeling grows more. He continues on up the stairs; he keeps one hand on the bannister which now looks more inviting then any slide in the park. The noise of the party is hardly noticeable but the growing realisation that he is somewhere he shouldn’t be is evident even to him. It’s really quiet up here he thought. No chatting parents or rushing waitresses around him now. The higher I go the more fun it’ll be he reasons. He reaches the top and feels totally alone; there is no one else anywhere nearby. The top bannister seems a little dustier then lower down and the walls look dirtier and less well kept up there.

The landing is covered in an old green carpet, worn and tatty not like at the bottom of the stairs. He looks down to the bottom step; it’s looks so far away. It’s higher than he expected it to be and the feeling gives his tummy a spin but more so he is thrilled with excitement. He’s done this before and knows how fun it could be although never on stairs this high before. He takes another look around for grown-ups knowing he could be in trouble if anyone caught him. Oddly the doors to the upstairs rooms were all open; they all appeared to be empty of furniture; empty of people. The rooms were dark but he could see dust floating playfully in the sunlight shining through the narrow windows. He takes hold of the bannister with both hands and rises up onto his tiptoes. It takes two attempts to raise his knee high enough to get atop the bannister. He is pulling with all his might trying to lever himself up with the inside of his raised leg. His skinny arms fully tensed as he grunts as he heaves again and again; he feels like he may have gathered momentum enough to lie on top of the bannister. “Pssst!” a voice quietly says. The distraction makes him plant his trailing foot back on the top step. He looks around to the landing and at the adjoining rooms pausing for a moment; it feels even more still and empty then before. He replaces his hands on top of the bannister and jumps off the floor this time heaving his chest up first before attempting to swing his leg over. He jumps and thrusts forward, his eyes are momentarily peering over the other side of the bannister; it’s a sheer drop to the floor of the hallway below. “Psst! In here”. The voice startles him, an unmistakable sharp whisper. It sounded like a girl’s voice coming from one of the rooms. The little boy dismounts the bannister and tentatively walks towards the room he thinks the whisper came from. No sound can be heard, even the din of the party downstairs had melted away to leave a complete eerie silence. He slowly enters the doorway to the dark room.

The room is almost entirely bare; no furniture no features other than a window with a low, deep sill at the furthest wall and an old brick fireplace on the wall to his right. The wall paper was peeling and the floorboards were coarse and a dull grey, nothing like the slick bannister that had caught his eye and imagination. The room looked old and sad to the little boy who turns his attention back to the bannister. He hears a child giggle. It came directly behind him somewhere inside the dark room. He looks again, this time under the window sill he could see something. He walks into the room curious as to what it was, it looked like old rags. As he gets closer he began to identify what looked like two thin hands interlocked in the shadow under the sill. He slowly walked forward, growing in certainty that something was definitely there in the dark. He gets even closer he sees what looks like two small feet and the crown of a head with long hair. It looked like a young girl; she was curled up lying on her side, holding her knees to her chest with her head tilted downward to her chest. Her dress was old and dirty; she was as still and quiet as everything around him. The little boy stands above her, he bends down to take a closer look. “Hello?” he said in a timid tone. No answer, no movement, just silence. “Hello?” he says again not entirely sure of himself. He reaches out to touch her; her faint red hair is covering her face. He brushes her hair away and sees her eyes staring forward blankly into her knees. “Over here.” A voice says before the sight under the window sill has chance to register in his young mind. The boy jumps to attention and looks over his shoulder he sees a girl in a grubby white dress and long scruffy hair stood in the corner where the wall meets the fireplace. The little boy sees her, confused he looks back down to the floor but nothing was there. The girl’s wide eyes stare directly into his, it reminds him of the way his mum would look at him whenever he had done something naughty. “You’ve found me.” She said the little boy didn’t react as if he was caught a car’s headlights. She was pale and very thin and began to slowly walk towards him in short frail footsteps, she looked like an older girl to the little boy but not that much older. “It’s your turn to hide now.” She said softly with a pained smile. “Who are you playing with?” the little boy enquired. “Me and you, silly.” The girl replied her voice was very quiet but not hushed like a whisper. “What shall we play next?” She said her sunken shadowed eyes fixed on the little boy. “Erm…I was going to slide down the stairs.” The boy muttered honestly. “I’ve never seen that game. Can you show me how to play?” She looked tired to the little boy and he thought she must be cold wearing only a thin dress but she didn’t seem to show it.

They both walk over to the top of the stairs, he points to the bannister “You climb on top of there and sit down you’ll slide all the way down the stairs.” He described in a joyless way, as if he wasn’t quite sure if he was in trouble with the girl or not. She takes her eyes off the little boy for the first time as she caresses the bannister with her hand, she breathes in a slow deep breath that seems to widen her eyes even more and straightens her sickly posture. “Show me.” The girl said harshly; her stony gaze returning to the little boy again. “I want you to get up there and show me.”  The little boy consider her request for a moment as it was his reason for him being up there, the thrill of the ride still awaits him. “Can I get some friends to play as well?” He offers. “Yes please.” The girl replied excitedly, her crooked smile and the faint pitch in her voice returned. “I’ve always wanted more friends to play with me.” She says gleefully though her eyes remained as bleak.

She takes him by the hand, the little boy’s hand felt cold like he had reached into the freezer for his favourite ice cream. She said “I will hide again. I’m the best at hiding.” She led him back into the dark dusty room into a corner which instinct told him to face. He noticed her hair was faintly red and her dress hung off her shoulders like it still was on coat hanger. “You count to 40 and see if you can find me again.” She said from behind the boy’s back. The boy covered his eyes and began to count to 40. “1…2…3…4…5…” He didn’t hear the usual scramble of feet running in all directions like he was used to when playing hide and seek. No closing of doors or excited giggles or the scrape of furniture being moved around, he didn’t hear a thing only himself counting. “28…29…30…31…” - “There you are?” a relived voice interrupted. The little boy removes his hands form his face, at the doorway stood the restaurant manager. She was stood with her feet at the edge of the carpet on the landing which came to an end in the doorway of the dusty room. “Come on it’s time for some birthday cake.” she said with an outstretched hand impatient a smile. The little boy walked towards her, as soon as he was in touching distance she pulled the little boy out of the room and closed the door forcefully behind him. She knelt down to be at his eye level and calmly asked “What were you doing in there?” " “I was playing hide and seek with an older girl.” He said directly. She smiled. “Well everyone is downstairs now and we’re about to sing happy birthday. Get downstairs quick so you can get a slice of cake.” Her suggestion was received with a nod of agreement and the little boy quickly made his way down the stairs. As soon as he was out of sight she pulls out a key from her pocket and locks the door of which she still has a tight grip. She gives the door an extra pull and a push just to be sure but the door was solid against the frame. She doesn’t waste any time going back down the stairs and re-hooks the ‘No Entry’ chain across the bannister and the wall on the bottom step. She brushes her hair behind her ears straightens her uniform, takes a deep breath before going back to her duties.

The little boy returns to his mum sitting at one of the tables. The little boy is greeted with a hug “Come on darling you’re just in time.”. A quick count of heads is made by the birthday girl’s mum before a nod is given to the restaurant manager; the manager’s busy mind is on other things. “We’re ready now.” The Birthday girl’s mum shouts as prompt for the restaurant manager to open the door and switch off the lights. The manager’s attention springs to life and she switches off the lights by her shoulder, her cheeks are red and she smiles apologetically for the lapse of concentration. The room goes quiet and the parents and staff lead the children in singing ‘happy birthday’ as the birthday cake is brought in with ghasts from the children. The birthday girl Millie is on her daddy’s knee and she patiently waits for the singing to finish before attempting to blow out the candles with that are well within touching distance. “Make a wish Millie” her mum says proudly from behind a camera obscuring her own face. She stalls for the briefest of moments before taking a deep breath and with puffed cheeks she blows hard into the yellow flames. She makes the effort to blow directly onto all five candles on the cake individually to improve the chances of her wish to coming true. A joyful applause fills the room, the birthday girl bashfully grins and hides her face into her father’s bicep. “Who wants some Birthday cake?” Millie’s mum asks the children who answer with excited screams of “I do!” as arms and pointed fingers are thrust into the air. “Aw Dylan has missed Millie blowing out the candles.” One mother observes now the curtains are reopened to brighten the room.

The little boy is sat on his mother’s lap; he isn’t too fussed about the birthday cake he was just calmly lying back his head resting on his mother’s chest while a waitress clears their table. “I need the toilet.” He says with an impatient inflection all children acquire at a young age. “I thought you went before we sang happy birthday to Mille?” - “I was playing hide and seek with a girl upstairs.” His answer is delivered in a nonchalant tone but on hearing him the waitresses clearing the little boy’s table gasps loudly and drops a small stack of dinner plates on the floor. The harsh clatter of ceramic plates crashing together silences the room. “I’m…I’m so sorry…Sorry everyone. I’ll clean this mess right away.” She says clearly shaken while hurriedly jutting to the floor and picking up the mess of plates and cutlery. Another waitress comes to her aid; it appears the waitress is struggling to re stack the plates, her hands are trembling. Between them they pick up the plates and cutlery, the waitress with shaking hands struggles to compose herself but apologises again to everyone before her voice begins to break. A chorus of empathetic reassurances echo throughout the room. “It’s fine...Don’t worry.” but the waitress swiftly leaves the room. The room soon returns back to its jovial, boisterous atmosphere. The little boy is silent; his attention is still focussed on the young waitress who had just left the room. He watches the door as the children hustle for their share of cake. The manager leaves the room; in the glimpse of the open doorway he can see the waitress again who dropped the plates. He sees that she is crying and that she is in a great deal of distress. He is fascinated to what is going on behind the door. The door swings open again and he sees her in an agitated state, protesting at the manager and other staff members; gesturing into the room then her finger pointing up to the ceiling. Her head shaking her honest eyes filling with tears. Her colleagues give each other wide eyed, worried glances they hold themselves subconsciously for comfort. The boy remains silent and still on his mother’s lap observing the conversation from afar. Before the door closes the waitress looks over into the room and sees the boy looking back at her. She doesn’t say a word or even try to hide the fact she’s upset.

“Have you seen our Dylan?” A woman asks aiming the question over the little boy’s head. “Not recently. He’ll be around here somewhere. Ask Jill.” Is the rather helpless reply. The woman’s face grew more confused the little boy watches the woman weave around playing children to the far side of the room. She’s over where Millie’s parents are and poses the same question to them. He watches the woman gain their full attention, only for Millie's parents both regretfully shake their heads. She turns to scan the room again her confusion turning to genuine concern. The already flustered restaurant manager walks into the room only to be summoned by the birthday girl’s parents there she is briefed on the situation. “Come on then if you need the toilet.” The little boy’s mum says as she lifts him off her knee. The little boy and his mum walk hand in hand towards the door to the hallway but are beaten to it by the restaurant manager and the worried looking woman. Even the restaurant manager is showing signs of the pressure of what was should have been a straight forward birthday party. She and the worried woman briskly push through the door. The little boy and his mum follow on behind them. “Dylan!” the woman calls out in the hallway. The restaurant manager presses her staff as to whether they had seen a little boy anywhere on his own. The worried mother calls out his name again and again over the mumbling back and forth of questions being asked and answers. In the moment between her calls a small boys body falls silently from the top of the staircase onto the hard wooden floor of the hallway. The brutal thud of bone smashing onto solid oak floor reverberated around the building. Those in the hallway at that moment will never be able to stop that horrific sound repeating in their minds for days, months and some even years. The shock stalled them all for a split second like as if they all skipped a heartbeat. The woman screamed like a deafening high pitched firework. “DYLAN!!!!” The boys limp body lay still; blood began seeping out of his ears, his nose and his mouth.

Author's Note

First draft.