If you love the Clawthide castle stories, you can see all of them here.
Previously, Anna discovered that she could see and hear ghosts. Amadi, the chef, can see them too.
October mist had swept across the grounds of Clawthide castle by the time Anna was walking up the sweeping driveway to work one Thursday afternoon. Usually, it would break by lunch time but there were days when the dampness in the air lingered on. The orange sun, low in the sky and weaker than it had been a couple of months before, rested behind thick clouds, unable to penetrate and lift the white veil for a glance at a clear evening.
Anna hurried up the driveway, holding her jacket close to her face. As she huffed she made wisps of breath in the air. Somewhere in the distance, a solitary peacock meowed from the confines of the nearby petting zoo. She had often mistaken them for cats but during mating season, their calls were deafening and persistent.
She was coming in that day for a wedding rehearsal and Pamela needed hands to serve the wedding breakfast samples. As was the case with most unmarried people in their early twenties, Anna had found herself feeling confused as to why it was called breakfast when it was served in the afternoon or evening. Pamela, with an unimpressed glower, had educated her on matters of the wedding breakfast. “It’s a breakfast because it’s the first meal you have as a married couple,” she tutted.
The sun was low in the sky, casting a bright red glow on the gardens as Anna walked closer to the castle entrance. In the corner of her eye, she felt as though she could see a four legged shape watching her. When she turned to look, the statues in the ornamental gardens were as still as always. The antique fountain was empty for the autumn and winter. She looked ahead again to see the car park opening up before her. She was breathing more cautiously now. The creature was in the corner of her eye again.
Staring at her from the ornamental gardens to her right was what she hoped was a dog. A great big brute with red eyes.
Keep walking, she thought, speeding up as she reached the car park. The dog was running in her direction with a resounding “woof”. Anna ran to the door as quickly as she could and leapt onto the stone steps. Her handbag crashed against the steps, scattering keys, tampons and lipstick everywhere.
On realising she wasn’t going to make it, she curled into the foetal position and listened out for the heavy, fast paws pounding the gravel. The hot breath of a panting dog was right in her ear. She squeaked.
“Are you alright?” Pamela asked, climbing out of her black mercedes and breaking into a half run.
“Oh.” Anna got up and dusted herself off. She had dried dirt and stone chalk all over her black trousers. Pamela looked at her with a concerned tilt of the head.
“Should have sent me a postcard.” she laughed. “Seriously, are you all right?” Pamela, true to her matronly nature, crouched down and started assembling the scattered belongings, scooping them back up and emptying them into Anna’s shell of a handbag.
“Yes. There was a dog.”
“A dog?”
“There was a dog.” Anna pointed to the ornamental gardens, dumbfounded. “I thought maybe…” She pointed a finger towards the sculptures. The driveway was empty all but for a couple of cars and topiary. Pamela was staring into her face– for concussion or reason to have her sectioned, Anna guessed.
Pamela paced the car park looking around the cars with her handbag on her elbow. “How big was it?”
“Oh, big. Like a great dane or something.”
“Really? My goodness.” Pamela held a hand to her chest. “I hope he’s gone home.” She looked over her shoulder nervously. “I don’t like big dogs.” She placed a hand on the small of Anna’s back and escorted her into the castle.
The couple were seated in the hotel restaurant upstairs, swiping on their phone screens with expressions of stress and boredom on their faces. Anna had brought the wedding breakfast wine for them to try. “Would you like to try the wine?” she asked.
“Yes, please,” said the bride-to-be, putting her phone down on the table. Anna removed the cork with a pop and poured an inch of wine into her glass. The bride-to-be lifted it to her mouth. Her tongue emerged like a thirsty slug as she sipped the sauvignon blanc. “Hmm, I don’t like that one.” she scrunched her face up in a grimace.
“Oh, is it corked?” Anna asked.
“No. I just don’t like sauvignon blanc. Can I have a chardonnay please?”
“Yes, of course.”
From the bar she watched Amadi bound over to their table with his usual swagger. He introduced each dish proudly and smiled as he backed away nearly bowing. Anna watched as they moved the food around their plates, unsure of what it was they were looking at.
Later, Anna brought their almost full plates back into the kitchen and upon seeing the giant dog snuffling for scraps on the tiled floor, dropped them with an almighty clatter and frightened it away. Amadi came rushing in from the restaurant door. “Yo, what happened?”
“Oh god, I’m so sorry. There was a massive dog.”
“Oh” Amadi placed his hands on his knees in relief. “That’s Hercules. He lives here. Hang on.” Amadi whistled and the creature returned to the kitchen with a trot, wagging his tail. “He’s an English mastiff.” Amadi looked at Anna, “he’s dead but he doesn’t know. He still chases birds, people and stuff. Just throw a ball for him if you want him to go away.” Amadi patted him on the head. “I’m not really touching him but he thinks I am and he loves it, look.” The dog’s tail wagged furiously. He barked again and spun around.
“Oh god. The poor thing.” Anna had found herself in a mixed state of alarm and sadness for the canine.
“He doesn’t know he’s dead though.” Amadi shrugged. “I think he’s like, five hundred years old.”
“What’s going on?” it was Ben, the pot washer. As most people did, he had a baffled expression on his face. Amadi and Anna stood up slowly. Anna looked at Amadi for some direction.
“Oh nothing.” he said with a wave of his hand. “We thought we saw a fox.”
Ben nodded slowly and sidled to the sink with a heavy side eye.