I heard the name first from the advocate, a Mr.Nambeesan.
“And last - you also get Windsor Manor” he said.
I had not been very close with my uncle, my father’s younger brother. I had moved with my mother and sister to England when I was very young and had had very few conversations with my uncle, or anyone from my father’s side of the family.
“I did not know uncle had investments in the west.”
The advocate shook his head. “West? No, this is in Idukki. All his other properties are here, in Cochin.”
I nodded, eyebrows raised. My uncle had lived in Kerala - South India - was where my uncle had lived. He had passed away a few weeks ago and I was the only blood relation. He had no children of his own and aunt had passed away long ago.
“The name does not sound Indian. Colonial place?” I asked him.
He shrugged.
“I have never seen the place myself. Your uncle moved there three years ago, and since then I have had no contact from him. He was completely unreachable that I had to check with other local advocates to see if he had drafted any newer will with them. Only after I was sure that he had contacted nobody else, did I reach out to you.”
I nodded again.
“I am slightly surprised that all of this is going to me. Does he have no other relatives?”
“He does.” said Mr Nambeesan. “But when he walked into my office 4 years ago, he wanted to write a very short will - that all of his wealth will go to you. You see, he had very bad regard for your cousins who were after his money. Soon after, he moved to the country - to Idukki - and I never saw him after that. I was intimated upon his death by a few friends here who knew I had drafted his will.”
Cousins? This was going to be awkward.
I thanked Mr Nambeesan and left for my hotel room. The next few days, I spent disposing of his properties in the city, collecting his insurance - which was also taken against my name, receiving condolences from his friends and proving my inheritance to the host of banks in which my uncle had had accounts. Despite the weaker currency, I could now move back to England quite a wealthy man.
Soon, only Windsor Manor remained to be sold. I called up a travel agent and arranged for a car to take me from Cochin to Idukki.
-—–
I reached Idukki at day break. When we enquired the way to Windsor Manor, the locals were not very helpful. They all put their head down, mumbled something in Malayalam - which I did not understand - and moved away. We stopped at a shack that sold onion and potato fritters. A guy who was eating there, Madhavan, agreed to take me to Windsor Manor.
“Was my uncle such a despicable man that nobody wants to do anything with him, even after he is dead?” I asked him in the car.
He read my lips intently and digested my accent. Then he shook his head.
“No. They are worried about the house. Scared.” He said. “Did you see the body?”
No, I said. I had not seen him in a long time. He nodded and then chuckled.
“Your uncle’s body was found hanging on the spiked fence compound wall that goes around the house. Looked like he was trying to escape.”
“Escape? Escape from what?”
“The house of course,” he said. “Take this left, and then go straight past the church.”
The driver did as he was told, and soon to our right, was Windsor Manor. I immediately gawked: it was a castle!
“There, that is the security guard’s cabin: stop there,” said Madhavan.
The security guard came running and offered a salute. He opened the gates and the grounds were majestic. Huge rose beds welcomed us to the left as the car wandered inside slowly. The eastern side had sunflowers and chrysanthemums. The southern side of the house was the biggest, dense with hundreds of tall coconut trees. In the center, stood Windsor Manor.
There was a servants’ quarters amidst the coconut trees. Two ladies came running and folded their hands in salutation, and offered to carry my bags. I was guided up the steps by the security guard. I noticed that Madhavan did not accompany us. I asked him to come in, that I wanted to talk with him. He did not, leaning against the car instead.
“Do you see the fence we passed when we came here?” He pointed at the fence on the west side - the side where there was no garden or trees. I nodded. The fence was 15-feet tall. Atop the fence were spikes. I was reminded of the fence from Game of thrones where Joffrey mounted Ned Stark’s head.
“That was where they found your uncle. The spikes had torn into his stomach, his upper torso leaning outside the fence.”
He paused, letting me view the fence.
“Why?” I asked. “He could have just walked out the gate. Why use a ladder to go up a fence and try to get out that way?”
“A ladder was not found.” Madhavan said with a smirk. “Everyone, including the police, thinks the place is haunted.” He said and then turned his eyes to the security guard, who sifted uncomfortably. “I think it was murder.”
“Welcome to Windsor Manor.”
-—–
I am not a brave person. I did not want to do what every idiot in horror movies did - refusing to leave a scary house. I immediately put the house on sale online. Enquiries came pouring in from other cities. I was flexible with the price; I wanted to close the sale and go back to London.
I also tried to improve the image of the place. I invited the townsfolk for a grand lunch. A few of them turned up and soon got comfortable. I kept the windows open, letting the lights flow in. Soon, people waved at me when I took a walk around town. The fear around the place had not receded entirely, but people were more at ease to talk to me.
There were just 3 helpers, not including the security guard and a gardener. I wondered how they maintained such a big place, but everything inside the house and on the grounds was always clean to a fault. They never stayed the night despite me asking them to. The more time I spent there, the more I was convinced that they had murdered my uncle. I was not there to investigate his death though; I never spoke about my uncle with any of them. I sometimes caught them staring at me from across the hallway or talking among themselves.
-——
Three weeks passed uneventfully. I slept well, enjoyed my walks around the grounds and loved the Kerala cuisine. Then, I started seeing the dwarf. He was standing at the foot of my bed when I was reading a book. I did not notice him at first: thought it was one of the helpers. He made a small grunting sound that made me look up and I doubled back.
“Do you know the way out?” He asked me.
I showed him the door, except the door wasn’t where it was supposed to be; it was a few feet to the right and I could not recognize the hallway beyond it.
“Are you not coming?” He asked me.
“Who are you?” I asked him and he stared back incredulously.
“Why would you ask that?” He started to weep.
I called for the servants, but nobody turned up. I heard the sound of someone running wearing anklets, in the hallway. The dwarf inhaled sharply and ran towards the other side of the room. There was another door there and he exited. The sound of anklets was getting closer. I waited, unsure of what was happening. And as suddenly as the sound started, it stopped. I blinked and both doors disappeared. The room’s door was back in its old place.
I closed the book I was reading and locked the room. I checked the closets and the bathroom. After I convinced myself that there was no one, I turned the lights off and lied down to sleep. I shut my eyes and thought about the dwarf. Had I dreamt the whole thing? Had I been sleeping with the lights on?
“Where is he?”
I jumped from the bed. The whole room was flooded in green lights that flickered. Before me stood an old woman. She looked furious.
“WHERE IS HE?”
I screamed for help. None came. The old woman came closer and I was sure I would die when the door creaked. The dwarf was trying to enter the room but stopped short seeing the woman. He ran away and the woman chased after him, her anklets jingling as she ran.
After a few blinks, my room was back to normal. I gasped and walked out of my room. The grandfather clock rang thrice. Had I dreamt again? Am I sleepwalking?
I went to the terrace and peeked at the gardens. The rose beds waved rhythmically, in tune with the breeze. Beyond the rose beds, I saw a small pond that I had not seen before. In the middle of the pond stood the woman, gripping something below the surface. My heart sank and saliva drained from my tongue; I could not find my voice. After a few seconds, she lifted the lifeless body of the dwarf and tossed him to the bank, like he weighed nothing. I found myself weeping in fear. I could not move or talk, as if I had been spellbound. When I finally found my voice, I do not know why I said “Run”.
On cue, the dwarf woke up and ran towards the house, with a smile on his face.